


He was my God.

by newt0nesque



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Brainwashing, Corruption, Cults, First Time, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Stockholm, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rehabilitation, Religion Kink, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rituals, Sacrifices, Therapy, deprogramming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newt0nesque/pseuds/newt0nesque
Summary: his memories are deafening.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Mikey Way
Comments: 22
Kudos: 43





	1. lamb led astray.

“Talk to me, Toro. What do we know so far?” Two men stood together in a dim hallway, keeping their voices hushed to avoid an echo and startle the teen they had brought in that night. He had been soaking wet, shivering, and virtually mute. He hadn’t uttered a word since his retrieval, only sobbing into his hysterical mother’s arms when she’d all but flown down to the station to see her son.

“I haven’t gotten much out of him since he got here,” Ray muttered under his breath.

He and his superior stared through the glass panel in front of them, the young teen seated beyond it had his head bent over, unable to see them watching. He wrung his hands anxiously in his lap, peeks of amateur tattoos revealed beneath where his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. His hair was a messy dark ginger and brown color, styled in what looked to be a fauxhawk. But tonight, damp and limp, it fell flat over his sullen face.  
Faint bruising showed on his neck and vanished beneath his clothes. His wrists bore reddish markings of what could have been rope or fingers, the officers hadn’t been able to determine on the spot when they came to fetch him. He had refused to let anyone touch him. Frank had been aimlessly wandering along the side of an empty road, where nothing but deep forests had stretched for miles. He was unsure of how far he’d traveled, but it had no doubt been an intense journey.

By the greatest stroke of luck he’d been discovered by a passing trucker who had pulled over at once. Frank appeared confused, lost, and paranoid about someone following him. He had gone on a panicked tirade of how “ _they’d kill him if they found him_ ”, he “ _couldn’t go back there”_. He’d fallen to his knees on the empty road, fully breaking down and begging the man not to take him back.

With what little they had to go on, it was clear the boy had been subjected to a plethora of trauma. He flinched when a hand had been raised to offer a comforting pat on the shoulder, or a drink, or something to eat. Sudden movement would startle him. He remained skeptical of the officers’ intentions in bringing him to the station late that night. 

Rain pounded steadily against the barred windows, the teen seeming to relax some with the white noise. He settled back into the plain chair of the empty room, save for him, a table, and another chair opposite him. Detectives had been coming in one at a time for the last hour and a half, having their lists of questions and none of them answered. Frank was exhausted, scared, and had only just stopped shivering. He’d been drenched when they found him, and luckily the detectives had found some spare clothes. The teenager all but drowned in the baggy black hoodie they had given him, but it was warm and offered a bit of comfort after his ordeal.

Ray finally heaved another sigh, shaking his head and scratching his chin. He moved to pull the heavy door open after a swipe of his ID tag, a loud buzz announcing him as he entered the room to take the empty seat facing Frank.

“Look, Frank.” He mumbled gently, folding his arms on the table.

“I dunno what the hell you’ve been through. But from the looks of you, it’s been a lot.”

Frank didn’t move, aside from his leg bouncing beneath the table. He didn’t make any indication that he was conscious of it, his eyes remaining glued to his hands in his lap.

“But listen, if there’s someone we need to find. Some...prick out there who did this to you, or if there were more, I dunno. We can only find them if you tell us what you know, see? You won’t get in trouble. You’re safe here, understand?”

Frank still said nothing. His shoulders hunched over on himself, almost as though he desired to curl up in a fetal position on the chair. He looked so small and fragile. Ray pitied him, but was determined to at least have something to go on before the night grew too late. It was already quarter past eleven, they were all tired. Frank’s mother Linda had begun to make a fuss out in the station lobby, scolding the officers for heckling her son when he clearly didn’t want to be there any longer.

But they needed something to go on, anything. Ray wouldn’t be able to sleep if he lacked even a shred of a lead.

“ _C’mon_ , son. I’m pleading with you now. Anything, a name, a location, any small detail you can think of. I know it’s hard for you. But you gotta work with me here.”

Still no response. Silence. Then a dry sniff.

“Did someone hurt you?” Ray asked slower this time, eyes glancing over the marked areas of Frank’s skin. “Looked battered to hell when Jared found you.”

Frank finally turned his head up slowly, his hazel eyes were reddish and bruised underneath. He could have been out there for days, running on little or no sleep. There was too much unknown here and it itched painfully at Ray’s insides. Poor kid, he began to think to himself- until the teen finally opened his mouth, closing it briefly again and swallowing before he tried once more. 

“I want my mom.” He finally whispered, immediately ducking his head, as if he expected to get hit from the very mention.

But instead, Frank heard the squeak of chair legs on the floor, and then a firm hand on his shoulder. Ray had stood up and moved to his side, giving Frank’s arm a squeeze while raising a walkie in his other hand.

“Hey Luke, bring Mrs. Iero in, please.” He muttered, the message ending with a messy crackle of static.

“One sec,” a garbled voice replied. More static, then silence again.

It was only moments after that the door reopened with its signature buzz, the man called Luke towing in Linda Iero, who looked flustered and annoyed. She shrugged off her escort’s hand with a huff and hurried over to her son to wrap him in a hug, Frank immediately leaning into her touch. With this scene in front of him, Ray would have thought it had been ages since the teen had known such tenderness.

“I apologize, Mrs. Iero. I know it’s been a hard night for you.”

“You’re damned right, it’s been.” The woman snapped, turning her hard eyes over to Ray. “He’s just a boy, let him come home and let this nightmare end for us already.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am. Not until some justice is brought. Whoever took your boy needs to be found. He’s a lead in a multitude of missing persons cases.”

“I don’t care what he is, he’s my son and he-“

“I-I wasn’t… _taken_.” Frank’s weak voice interrupted, startling Linda and bringing her gaze back to her son’s face.

“Honey?” Linda gasped, searching Frank for any possible explanation but coming up short. “What do you mean?”

Luke stepped forward to set a tape deck on the table, retreating to the door once again and closing it behind him.

Ray understood the message in his silence, stepping around to his chair and taking a seat, nudging the recording device forward and clicking the red button that sent the wheels in it turning.

“Tell us what happened, Frank.”


	2. he was the wolf.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet mikey, who wants to introduce frank to someone special.
> 
> (note: the POV changes here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't resist getting this one out asap, i'm having a great time with this work so far and hope y'all enjoy!

I met him in a place you wouldn’t think to meet someone like him. It was a dingy little record shop, a lot of secondhand finds but every now and then I’d find something good. I had just gotten hands on a Black Flag album I’d been trying to find for forever. I remember it made my entire day since I was still struggling with my grandfather’s passing. He inspired me the most to pursue music. He was a drummer, but I had taken up guitar instead. It just suited me best. I had big dreams of joining or even starting a band myself. My mom humored me, letting me practice in the basement or the garage but my dad was pushing the college agenda after I finished high school. He was a musician himself but he didn’t want me to put all my eggs in one basket. I had graduated early, the first in my family to do so. I was sixteen. I had no plans of what career I wanted. I’m just a kid, and all I wanted to do was have fun. But I guess naivety comes with being a kid too.

He was young, probably around my age. He said he liked Black Flag too. I was happy to finally meet someone out of that small town who knew about good music. His name was Michael, but he insisted Mikey was preferable. We ended up chatting while I paid for the CD and we left together to go sit on the curb outside the gas station across the street, both of us with a soda in hand. He told me he used to live a few towns over, but had since moved. He would only visit here for short errands and to get a breath of fresh air. I asked him where he lived now.

“It’s a paradise on earth,” he said, a smile tugging his lips while he took a quick sip of his Sunkist.  
“Sounds cliché,” I teased, but he startled me with a firm look.  
“It’s not a joke, Frank. Seriously, if you saw it yourself you’d think the same.”

I didn’t really want to run off with a stranger I’d just met, but he seemed so sure of himself. He proceeded to prattle off about the wonders of the place he lived. It wasn’t a house or a neighborhood, but a ranch miles outside town. The location wasn’t exactly a plot on any map, they’d built it themselves- the goal being to remain undetectable aside from those who lived there.

“We all have our part to play. Livestock need caring for, fields tending, teaching the kids the ropes. Reverend holds services every night.”

I stopped him, raising my hands a bit and shaking my head. I was immediately put off at the idea now. “Nah man,” I started, chewing at my lip. “I don’t do the whole Jesus thing.”

“It’s not a Jesus thing,” He defended, his brows were furrowed as he stared me down. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“I mean, I’m trying to have an open mind. But it just sounds like, I dunno, weird I guess. Old-fashioned.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong, old-fashioned _works_ for us,” He seemed urgent in pleading his case to me. I still didn’t feel great about it, but I was beginning to wonder if it was worth humoring him just to say I gave it a chance.

“So who’s Reverend?” I asked him, trying to change the subject. The intensity in his face when I doubted him made me nervous.

“My brother, actually.” He seemed proud of this, another smile.

“And he’s?”  
“Gerard. But we just call him Reverend, or Father.”

“So it’s not a Jesus thing, but he’s what, a prophet or something?”

“Everything churches tell you around here is a lie, Frank.” He seemed exasperated by having to tell me that, leaning back on his elbows. “You don’t do Jesus, you said. There’s a reason for that, because it’s all a farce. It’s fake.”

“Well yeah, because religion was made to cope with fearing death, wasn’t it?” While it was easy to talk to him, I felt like I needed to choose my words carefully to avoid upsetting him. While he was my age, his mind seemed to be far beyond his years. I envied that a bit. I was plenty smart, sure, but he had a whole new level of prodigy to him. He was the kind of kid my father would be more proud of than the pothead punk he had for a son instead. The thought made my stomach twist.

“Oh Frank, there is so much you’re missing.” He rested a light hand on my knee, leaning forward so he could look me in the face.

“The afterlife, good and evil, all of that is real. But the way you’re taught in this reality is anything but factual. He’s spoken to God, he knows the Truth.”

“And you know this, because?”

“I understand your skepticism, I was the same way. I lived at home with my parents before I joined my brother. They were Catholic, went to church, and I went along with them. I was a sheep to their flock, until he came to collect me.”

“Wait, how did your family not like, know?” I tipped my head, growing more concerned with how this all had played out. Because really, how could a man leave his family, return to take his sibling away, and not have anyone question it?

“Oh I come back and visit, that’s part of why I’m here today too. My poor father passed away recently, heart attack. I came to pay respects. My mother is in hysterics, but it’s out of all our hands, right?”  
He seemed so nonchalant about the concept of death, especially with his family. I didn’t get along great with my father, but even then I knew I would have been upset if he suddenly kicked the bucket like that. Part of me also envied his ability to suppress such extreme emotions, including grief. God knows I wished I could turn my feelings off majority of the time. I guess that’s what the pot was for.

“Right,” I nodded, kicking back another swig of my root beer. “So, did you drive here?” I changed the subject again. I was uncomfortable, though my morbid curiosity was definitely getting the better of me at this point.

“Oh yeah!” He piped up, immediately hopping to his feet. It looked a bit goofy with his long legs, but he had yanked me up along with him before I could even give an amused chuckle at his cartoonish behavior.

“It’s an old one, but manages to stay in one piece.” He kept a tight hold on my wrist as we headed down the sidewalk to the small lot nearby. It was a faded blue truck, old for sure, but still seemed to have enough in it to keep going.

“Oh she’s beautiful,” I mused, looking it over. Even with the chipped paint and evidence of rust in some spots, I appreciated the vintage look and feel of it.

“Material items are just that, material. But thank you, gets me where I need to go.” He stuck his key in the door to unlock it, gesturing to the passenger side.  
“Hop in.”

“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?” I joked. Looking back to that moment, maybe I shouldn’t have said it.

“Nonsense, I’ll bring you back before dusk. If you want to come back,” He gave me another smile, climbing into the driver’s seat without another word.

The radio in the truck was definitely struggling, but after some clicks of the knob we managed to find a decent rock station, which cut in and out via loud radio static. Mikey told me how he technically wasn’t supposed to listen to music like this, but he indulged the freedom of it every now and then. I put my worn high tops up on the dashboard and watched the dry fields and tilled land fly us by, only to be eventually replaced by long stretches of trees. It was late summer, so they weren’t in bloom but they flourished in all shades of green nonetheless.  
We eventually pulled off onto an unmarked dirt road. From first glance, you would think nobody used it, with a lot of overgrowth, weeds, and rocks covering any of the tire tracks that came through. There were remnants of an old fence with some barbed wire at the turn in, that was all evidence of something being there that could be found. I didn’t mind it then, I thought it was cool-looking. Mysterious and edgy, that sort of thing had always peaked my interest.

When he had said ranch, I pictured a flatter place, but in fact it had a variety to it. It was a good bit of a drive down the bumpy road until the trees began to part, slowly revealing weathered cabin-style dwellings. All unique in their own ways. One sporting a porch with some rockers and a swing, another had lights strung along the posts beneath the awning. One had a doghouse out front with a pleased looking mutt laying out in the patchy grass. They weren’t grand by any means, but they looked lived in, cozy. Some children ran past with an orange ball, laughing amongst themselves while a mother called from somewhere for them to be careful. I looked on ahead, seeing a trail leading up a semi-steep hill. There was a larger abode set atop it, a single lantern glowing softly in one of the upstairs windows to indicate the presence of its inhabitant. Further along the road splitting the encampment led to what could presumably be a community hall, with a deck out front. A cluster of youth sat on its front steps, chatting idly with books and papers strewn around them.

“How many live here?” I finally asked, turning to look at Mikey, who had fallen silent upon our arrival.

“A few. Less than a hundred last I checked, but enough. We’re a family. Everyone knows everybody.” His tone had definitely shifted from the peppy teenager I’d met in town. It made me begin to wonder then if I’d made a mistake in coming at all. I shuffled in my pocket, finding my phone and discovering I had no signal.

“You won’t need that. Modern technology is a poison on humanity, Frank.”

“Yeah, I get that.” I began, pausing to consider my next words. “But like, my mom, y’know? She’d worry if I don’t let her know.”

“I said I’d take you back if you want to, didn’t I?” He almost spat, though he collected himself quickly. “Just, give this a chance, you haven’t met anyone yet. Trust me, I think you’ll find our way illuminating.”

I wanted to believe his intentions were genuine, and that he wasn’t trying to ensnare me in something I didn’t consent to in the first place.  
But...maybe I was overthinking, and that I shouldn’t knock it till I tried it. I mean, my whole lifestyle was about fighting a system that tried to control me. This was just another form of rebellion, but on a tamer scale, right?  
I rationalized that thought in mind, and climbed out of the truck when Mikey had pulled into a worn spot near one of the cabins closest to the hilltop one. I stretched my legs a moment, taking in my surroundings a bit more closely. The air smelled of fresh pine, earth, and something cooking in the distance. Smoke from fireplaces billowed from a few of the chimneys, casting soft grey clouds into the air. It was like stepping back in time. Everything had a peace to it. Here, the world and all its problems outside of this place didn’t exist.

“So,” I cleared my throat, turning to face Mikey, who’d been watching me with a blank face the entire time I had spent looking around. “Gonna give me the grand tour?”

“I have to introduce you to Reverend first.” He replied matter-of-factly. “He’s not exactly keen on strangers.”  
He seemed to notice the worried look that came to my face, putting on a bit of a smile to reassure me. “But you’re with me, I don’t think he’ll mind too much. Come,” he gracefully turned on his heel, ambling toward the path of long, flat stones set firmly in the ground that led up the hill.

I followed him, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my denim jacket. I hoped the various patches of metal bands and whatever else I found aesthetically pleasing wasn’t too offensive in the eyes of the people here, much less the ringleader.

Mikey didn’t knock, despite the yellowing note there condemning otherwise- must be an exception for siblings. The Reverend’s door was a rich dark green, matching the landscape almost perfectly. It creaked when Mikey pushed it open, calling to announce himself. I stepped in behind him, my head on a swivel trying to take it all in. I rarely saw a home so well-kept. The floors were a dark hardwood, beautifully polished. A thick circular maroon rug lay in the foyer in front of us, sporting some intricate designs that I couldn’t decipher just by looking at it. There was a stairwell off to the left, and an archway just ahead and to the right leading off into various other rooms on the lower floor. I was snapped out of my looking around when a cool voice came from the upper landing.

“Michael, you’re late- oh, I see why now.”  
“You know I’m never tardy without reason, Reverend.” Mikey responded just as smoothly, giving his brother a smile. They were definitely related, I could see it in their faces. And a face his brother had, indeed.

He was almost like a ghost, pale as stock paper, though he definitely wasn’t sick. Inky black hair framed his face, I almost wanted to dive my fingers into it just to feel the velvet softness I'm sure it held. He wasn't a monster in height, but he carried himself in an authoritative way. His deep greenish-brown eyes scoured my face like I was a piece in an art museum. I was something that held his attention and left him wanting to discover all the metaphors hidden beyond its surface. He finally smiled, a small set of white teeth greeting me as he descended the stairs to where we remained standing by the door.

“Who’s this?” He asked in an almost-purr, reaching a hand out toward me. He wore a ring on his middle finger, which held a blood red stone and what looked like a bunch of tiny crosses etched into the silver band.

“This is Frank, I met him in town. He was interested in how we live here.” Mikey explained before I could open my mouth to speak for myself, which Reverend seemed to catch onto.

“I have no doubts he can say his own piece, Michael. Let him talk.” He scolded gently, giving his brother a firm look while shaking my hand slowly. His hands were a bit cool to the touch, but soft. His hand enwrapped mine easily, his thumb swiping over the letters inked into the skin of my knuckles.

“Ah, you’re a fan of body decoration, I see.” His tone went flat, eyes tracing each of the letters that spelled out the holiday telling the month of my birth. Halloween.

“Uh, yeah. I got my first when I was like fifteen. The body is a temple, right?”

He pressed his lips together, eyes flicking back to my face. “Truly.” He agreed with a short nod, dropping my hand away. “Makes one wonder what other sins of Flesh you’ve indulged in.”

I felt my face drop. But he smiled again, shaking his head and sending a few strands of dark hair falling over his face.

“I am only joking, my son. You have nothing to fear. Many of our congregants also have ink work, Michael included.” He gestured to the younger brother standing next to me, who rolled up the sleeve of his faded blue button down to show off a few pieces on his arm. I grinned admiringly, all traces of uncertainty gone now that I had the reassurance I wasn’t a black sheep here.

“Come in, can I interest you in coffee?” Reverend offered as he moved off toward what I could assume was the kitchen. I was right when Mikey and I followed, finding the flooring changed to a pattern of black and white tile. A wood-burning stove stood off in the corner, a long marble countertop, a sink, and a fridge. It seemed they had bare minimum when it came to “modern” technology, though I had no place to judge. Whatever worked for them, worked. _Old-fashioned works for us_ , Mikey’s words from before recanted back in my head. I watched Reverend put a kettle on to boil, seizing opportunity to take all of him in. He was in black priest robes, it looked like. The telltale collar at his neck and a wooden crucifix dangling by a strand of prayer beads. The wood was dark, much like the woodwork in the rest of his home. Cherrywood, if I had to guess specifics. Not like it mattered, but I knew it was rare. I took a shop class one year and few things stuck with my memory.

“So, tell me, Frank.” Reverend’s smooth voice caught my attention once more, my eyes darting up to his face as if I’d not been getting a good look at him the whole time. If he noticed, he had given me no indication. He folded his arms over his chest, giving me another soft smile. “What interested you about coming here?”

I faltered a bit in trying to formulate a good enough reason. Truthfully, I didn’t know. I felt equal parts coerced, equal parts curious on my own accord. Either way, my thoughts remained conflicted on the whole situation. I reassured myself quickly. _He said he’d take you home, stop it with the anxiety. You should’ve taken your meds this morning, dumbass_. I shook my head quickly, clearing my throat.

“Um, Mikey- Michael, he gave a pretty convincing pitch in town. Told me this was a paradise for you.”

“Oh, it’s a paradise for all. For those who want it badly enough.” Reverend smiled again, his eyes searching my face like before. Normally I would have felt uncomfortable being examined so fervently, but something about the man’s gaze had cast me into some kind of trance. I didn’t want to break away from it. His charm and mystery were too compelling to ignore.  
I wanted to know more about him.

“You really believe that? I mean, with the world we live in- it’s hard to find a true place with nothing bad.”

He hummed, blinking slowly at my words. He understood, but I knew he was going to provide an argument to the contrary.  
“Those who seek to find peace will find it, and if he cannot find it on his own- then he need only ask the Lord to reveal the path.”

“Mik-,” I corrected myself again, “Michael told me this wasn’t a Jesus thing.”

Reverend chuckled softly, taking a step forward and reaching to touch my shoulder gently. His touch seemed warmer now, inviting.  
“Jesus was a man, Frank. God goes far beyond that, surely you would know.”

I had to shrug, giving him a sheepish smile. “I was in Catholic schools, didn’t really know different, I guess. They kinda just...mash that all together.”

“Ah, that is understandable.” He mused, clicking his tongue. “We can always adjust one’s understanding with new information. There is no shame in that.”

I had no doubt. I believed him then.


	3. in peace by blood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank learns some history and tradition.
> 
> -
> 
> TW: blood mention & a knife

I could have listened to the man speak for a lifetime. I was captivated, and entirely under his spell. His voice alone was dripping honey, and anything that came from him was poetry. He kept me seated at his small dining table for hours, warm coffee in our hands, all the while he recounted the origin stories of how this “paradise” came to be. A dream turned to a reality. He had gone through art school, of all places, leaving it with a degree and a yearn for something greater. While he made a good living through his exhibits, his life had remained unfulfilled, unsatisfying. He turned to studying philosophies during his nightly fits of insomnia, consuming all ideologies from around the world until supposedly, God came to him late one night while he lay awake, deep in thought. 

"It was an out of body experience," He remembered, saying it was the most surreal event of his life, and nothing since could ever hold a candle to it.

I couldn’t imagine, I’d never opened my mind to any spirituality. Even when in school, all the talk of Jesus, hearing God’s voice in everyday lives, it always seemed too far fetched. But hearing him speak, you were bound to believe every word that came from his perfect lips. He told me how he had gone on to move out of his apartment and settled life in New York City, heading for the most rural area he could find to buy land. From there, he’d collected Mikey from their parents’ house, where they said goodbyes and fabricated some story about going to live together out west. That had been just what it was, a lie. The pair then ventured onto their newfound territory, making plans to build, to revamp the landscape, to make a home. Mikey had always been at Reverend’s right hand, and this time was no exception. He collected supplies, made calls with the right professionals, and over time- gathered recruits. Those they found were, too, searching for a life beyond what they were struggling to find or maintain. It began with an idea, and had prospered now for the better part of six years. 

People seemed happy, from what little I’d seen of them thus far. My understanding began to shift, and I wondered what this way of life could bring for me, the misfit teenager who just wanted to feel valued in life. 

“We call it Peace Through the Blood, though that’s just formality.” Reverend explained, his eyes hadn’t left my face the entire time. From the moment I’d entered his home, I was his only focus and nothing more. I would have been uneasy in any other situation like this one, but his presence in the room made everything seem normal. I was just visiting a new friend, and we were sharing our life stories together. Mikey had left at some point during the afternoon, but I didn’t pay attention. He’d announced his departure and it was just me and Reverend after that.

“I’m glad Michael found you, Frank. I think you’d fit in well here.” He said, swirling his mug in front of him before taking a sip.

I came back into my body at that statement, feeling my stomach drop. I hadn’t agreed to anything, and was still planning on going home that night. I then noticed how dusk had begun to fall outside, the purplish-orange light streaming in through the windows behind Reverend and falling into a halo around his silhouette.

“Oh, um, I don’t think I’m like, cut out for this sort of life really.” I fumbled for a proper excuse, remembering then. “I have college plans. I graduated early.”

“You don’t want to go,” he said, voicing my truth like he’d reached into my subconscious and pulled it into light. “College is not the life you’re cut for, either.”

“Well, you’re right, but I mean…no offense, how is this a better life for me?”

“None taken,” Reverend pressed his lips together, finally dropping his gaze from me to stand and grab a book from the counter. I knew it was a Bible just by looking at it, but it wasn’t like any version I had been introduced to.

“My own translation, years in the making,” He explained when he sat down again, not needing to see the confused look on my face to know I had several questions. He opened it to reveal an immense text of scrawled notes, all with neat, slanted handwriting. He really had translated and written, over a thousand pages at least.

“That’s…dedication, I admire that.” I said slowly, not tearing my eyes away from the book in front of us.

“Well, it was what I was called to do. We all have a destiny to fulfill in His eyes, Frank. I want to help you in finding yours.”

I stopped him.

“But that’s not your job, is it? If it’s destiny we’re talking about, that should be my responsibility. All due respect, but don’t infantilize me, Reverend.” I dared to correct, to stand up for myself, and he didn’t interrupt. Though I could tell in his face that he was going to say something along the lines of I was young, and needed guidance. He was right, but I wouldn’t be coerced so easily.

Him reaching to touch my hand on the table was unexpected, but I didn’t pull away from it. His thumb was stroking the letters on my knuckles again.

“I want to help because it’s my duty to shepherd my people,” He said, my eyes locking back into his automatically. What was it about this man and having that easy an ability to control people, including me? I couldn’t say. I just knew I had to listen to him, and let him gently caress my hand in both of his own.  
It was comforting in its own way, despite his proposal making me feel uncertain.

“I want you to see what this life can do for your benefit, Frank.” He blinked at me, leaning forward in his seat. “I was just like you before I founded this holy land, this home I built for all of my family. I envision a place here for you, too.”

He had pushed the sleeve up on my jacket, exposing what other tattoos I had beneath it. The artwork permanently inked there were the beginnings of a sleeve, which I had intent on finishing soon. I’d buddied up with an aspiring artist out of school and let him experiment on me in exchange for free ink. He hadn’t disappointed me yet, and Reverend didn’t seem to be either.

“These are beautiful,” he whispered, tracing a long finger over each line individually. My skin tingled pleasantly at the sensation, and a part of my brain mused happily as to what else his hands could do if I allowed him. _God, no_. I scolded myself, subconsciously half-wrinkling my nose at the very idea. This man was a priest, and I knew better than to let my thoughts derail to inappropriate places, especially in this context. Not to mention I was a minor, it was all sorts of wrong to even think that way about him. If he had known, I had no doubt he would throw me out the door and tell me to never come back. My sexuality was a struggle and it had been for years, and I knew if I was to be placed in an environment where such things could be potentially shunned- then I wouldn’t be happy.

“You’re afraid you can’t be who you are here,” Again, voiced directly from my inner chatter. I didn’t understand how he did it then, and I still don’t. I just nodded.

“I’m not… _like_ you, I guess.” I said slowly, ducking my head out of instinct as well as shame. “I don’t… me and girls, I just, it’s complicated.” I was taken from my self pity by a warm hand cupping my chin, tipping it upward so I faced Reverend again. He let his hand remain there, holding my gaze.

“Any human, regardless, shall be most honored to have your love one day.”  
His words shook through me like a breath of wind, chills running along my spine but I didn’t shiver. I didn’t doubt him. I would be safe here. My values didn’t have to shift so drastically. 

Sure, my lifestyle would be different than from what I was used to. But looking back, I didn’t have much going for me up to that point. I was in limbo between finishing high school and being shipped off to some university I didn’t even think I’d be okay with attending. My family’s expectations were high and I was terrified of disappointing them after all they’d sacrificed to get me in the position I was. They’d had me young, and I was somewhat of a burden on them until they got better settled. I felt some guilt and pressure from that ever since I had learned of it. They insisted to not allow the knowledge to hinder me, that I was very much loved and valued, but things never felt the same once I knew the truth. If I hadn’t come to be, maybe they would have been able to succeed in their own aspirations. I was crying. I didn’t notice until he’d swiped a tear that escaped down my cheek.

“My boy,” Reverend’s soft voice was like a hug. I wanted to lean into it.

“You have nothing to be shamed for here. Come,” He moved to stand, and I went with him. 

He dropped his hands away from me, and I knew to follow even without his touch. An invisible lead kept me tethered to his wake, and I trailed close behind him as we walked from the cabin and down the hill. I hadn’t seen the chapel when Mikey and I had arrived, probably because it was tucked away in a clearing just off where the road ended. Like us, the other congregants were gathering and making their way into the building. It was nothing extravagant, but the stained glass caught my attention. It lined every window, casting patterns of luminescence in all colors along the walls, over the people lining the pews who were watching as we passed through the main aisle. They were smiling at me, some waved, and the children bounced happily upon seeing the newcomer in their midst. I heard the gatherers’ whispers amongst themselves: “ _He looks nervous_ ”, “ _How young, can’t be eighteen yet_ ”, “ _How charming, Father chose well_ ”.

I looked up again when I’d bumped and nearly tripped over the step leading up to the platform where an altar stood. A lectern sat atop it, draped in a handsome purple fabric bearing a black cross. Reverend had placed his book upon it, and offered me his hand with a soft smile. I joined him, allowing him to turn me and face the curious crowd. I was never one to be the center of attention, so the scene was incredibly daunting. Though something in me assured that this was all okay, Reverend’s hands on my shoulders only encouraged the fact. Then he spoke.

“My children, we have an unclaimed lamb among us tonight.” Always so clear, he never hesitated or faltered. I envied that. Trying to get a full sentence in one try was already difficult enough without me moving my hands to emphasize or tripping on my words. Yet here he was, a God among men, speaking as though he’d known me his whole life.

“Frank is eager to learn our way, shall we allow him? Will we teach him together, such as our Lord taught all of us?”

A unison sound of “ _We will_ ” emitted from the crowd before me. I felt those chills again.

I felt the rational part of me shrinking, the part that was telling me to leave and steal Mikey’s truck and _go_. I didn’t move. I wanted to be here, it was written to be so.

“Frank,” He spoke to my ear, and I listened. 

“Do you promise to adhere to our laws, and to uphold our creation to the best of your ability? And should it ever come to pass, any threat toward our peace, will you defend our home with your life?”

“I do, I will.” The words didn’t sound like my own, but my mouth moved with them nonetheless. My consciousness had begun to swirl, the agreements I had stamped my name upon were flooding through me. This was where I belonged, where I was needed most. I had a duty here, a purpose. Reverend had given that to me.

“Then Frank,” He had taken my right hand- where did the blade come from?

He had sliced a long, thin “X” over my palm before I could object. I hissed at the sting, but I didn’t cry out. My blood quickly seeped to the surface, highlighting the shape in a brilliant crimson. Reverend raised my arm, showing my rite of passage to his flock, who cheered and clapped in excitement. Their eyes were alight and all on me, their pride shone in beams. My heart beat fast, I wasn’t sure if it was from the adrenaline or something else- it was euphoric. Perhaps the best I had felt in years, and no high could compare to it.

When Reverend allowed me my arm back, he was quick to bandage it. Where he kept acquiring items from thin air, I didn’t see or care. The plush gauze pressing into the fresh wound stung more, then slowly diminished the pain. I felt my heartbeat in my palm, the slow throbbing came in time with the red flow. My blood soaked through the first few layers of bandage, then eventually became a pure white. He tied it off for me, meeting my gaze with the proudest smile I had yet seen on his face.

“ _Well_ done, my boy. Well done.” He hugged me, and I got a thorough wash of his scent. The coffee from earlier, and what I guessed to be sage or incense, but it was strong, and comforting just as he was.

“Please, join me in welcoming our new brother, Frank.” He announced when he pulled away, the crowd still clapping and grinning up at me. I was a graduate who had just walked the stage. I didn’t mind the attention anymore, in fact, I reveled in it. I felt important, wanted, and that my being there mattered to more than just a few.

I was passed off to the congregants afterward, each of them stepping up to introduce and shake my hand. I met couples, singles, families with several or few children. All of them welcoming, kind, and inviting if I needed anything of them. Whether it be advice, a shoulder to lean upon, or just a friend to come to- they were more than willing. 

Mikey made sure he was the first in front, congratulating me with a tight hug. I initially wondered how orthodox such an action was, then remembered Reverend’s words about love.  
_Any human, any…_  
So I squeezed the lanky man back, feeling my heart swell with pride. It had been a rare time that I was allowed to show affection toward another man with no stigma attached, no shame, no risk of being beaten to the ground where I stood, or worse. It felt freeing, and powerful. Mikey retreated with a huge grin, telling me to meet him outside when the crowds dispersed. It was a while still before they filed out the door for the night, moving off to their dwellings and one by one the lanterns went dark.

The encampment at night was pleasantly quiet. The shadows of houses stretched across the lawn, only illuminated by what few moonbeams could shed through the tree canopies. I met Mikey outside the chapel, where he led me off toward his cabin.

“Reverend said you can stay with me, until we get you settled with your own. Though, roommates aren’t uncommon either. But we value personal space.” He explained to me, which made sense. I didn’t question what he told me this time, rather just knew it was fact. I understood him.

His home was well-kept, like Reverend’s, but on a smaller scale. It was only one floor, unlike some others which had up to three depending on the family size. It suited him, he had two bedrooms and a bathroom, a kitchen with a small living area and a dining table. It was obvious only one lived there, but I wouldn’t take much space. He showed me to the second bedroom, which was more child-sized than adult, but enough for me. There was a dresser, a nightstand, and a window giving a perfect view down into a valley nearby, where a happy creek trickled along. The moonlight dotted along its surface, with tiny silver fish swimming by over the little falls. I cracked the window open just for the sounds alone, the natural peace and silence falling over the land in the night. 

“Let me know if you need anything else. There are spare clothes in the drawers there,” Mikey pointed to the dresser, lingering for a moment before he moved to shut the door and leave me alone for the night.

Was I really here? Even now it felt like a dream. The faint pulse of my bandaged palm brought me back again, and I recognized no, I _was_ here. This cozy bungalow was real. The soft bed I sunk down into after stripping down to my boxers and old Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt, all of it, was thoroughly real. I settled down under the thick covers, which were a white and blue plaid pattern. I liked it a lot. Normally darker colors were what I went for, but having a change like this was nice. Settling back into the nest of comfort, I thought about Reverend again. The service that night had been short, just an initiation. But if there was more to it than that, I wanted to learn it all. All the things Reverend had told me over the table, holding my hands and emphasizing what a grand choice this was. How it would benefit me, how I could find true peace and happiness and purpose in my life- well, who wouldn’t want that?

I thought of his hands, how they encapsulated mine. Part of me wanted them to hold me again, that brief hug shared in the chapel was something that left me wanting more. His charisma and charm were a contagion that had quickly burrowed into my system. I took a deep breath, letting my head nestle into the pillow. I thought of him, lying in his own bed, alone in that little house, and allowed my thoughts to wander. 

What did he think about, was he thinking of me - _well, that was stupidly self-centered_. I had only just met the man, but I wondered if he felt it too. There was an intensity in him whenever he had looked at me, from the moment I walked in his door that afternoon. He had told me I was special, and he had envisioned good things ahead for me, in this place, with Him and His people. He told me of a prophecy he’d received not long ago, of a young man, like me, who came from a troubled background and was seeking something worth living for. He assumed that was me, and here I came. I had been the lamb wandering in search of a flock to take him in, as he was, and all of his aspects included. 

I felt my heart give a pleasant flutter. I had never felt exceptionally special to anyone, but Reverend had reached in and made it so. I now had a full, loving flock standing behind me, and I’d not yet been here a day. 

I ended up falling asleep in no time, my dreams were that of paradise, of shining gold rivers, of a man with black hair whispering soft nothings to me while we laid in the grass together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy !


	4. rules and regulations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank has a request, and some doubts- reverend compromises.

It was the sharp scent of spices, potatoes and something pastry that woke me out of my sleep the following morning. The sun was streaming in through the window, casting light into the room and highlighting a few tiny particles swirling in the air. I blinked a few times to remove the sleep from my eyes, watching the light dance over the wallpaper for a moment. 

Finally I hoisted myself up into a stretch, momentarily forgetting where I was until I took in the full of my surroundings. Mikey’s cabin, bed, right, I stayed here. Yesterday...almost felt foggy, though I remembered most of what had occurred. I spent most of the day with Reverend, and then he took me to the chapel, and then…

”Ow,” I scratched my bandaged hand, the dull ache from the branding beneath it still there. Right, that happened too. _Shit_ , mom was probably panicking by now if she wasn’t already. That was my first thought, I moved out of the room without thinking twice about being in my underwear, hearing voices when I turned the corner into the kitchen. 

“Speak of the devil,” Mikey teased from behind the stove, catching my eye from across the room.

Reverend was seated at the table with an empty mug in front of him, looking more...casual than I was used to seeing him. His hair messy, he sported a grey t-shirt covered in what looked like paint stains, and cozy blue sweats. The simplicity humanized him. No doubt he kept the authority flair, but he seemed more approachable then.  
“Good morning, Frank.” 

I immediately blushed, catching myself in my staring and my mouth falling slightly agape. “I- um, good morning, Father.” I hadn’t called him that before, but the name seemed to come out by instinct.

He just smiled at me, beckoning for the chair nearest to him. “Come sit, Michael’s just making breakfast.” 

My stomach grumbled a bit in response, though I normally didn’t eat in the morning. I was nervous to tell what I was thinking, but it had to be out in the open at some point. “I-I’m vegetarian, actually. Sorry, I should’ve said-”  
Mikey only smiled, sliding a plate over the counter to me. It was simple, but arranged like one of those DIY recipe adverts. A few slices of wheat toast, one with a warm reddish-purple jam slathered over it, fried egg whites lay on a portion of the bright green glazed plate, and a small pile of fruit completed the colorful circle. I took it gladly, moving over to plant myself at Reverend’s right side. I noticed he was not wearing his ring anymore, nor the strand of beads from what I could tell. He looked...normal, like the rest in this place. From his presence alone I could tell that nothing had changed, not his authority nor his knowledge or anything else. Still, he seemed more down-to-earth in this way, and I liked seeing it.

 _Why was I letting myself get immersed in this?_ I returned to my own thoughts when Reverend lifted his gaze from me. I was supposed to be thinking of how I was going to apologize to mom when I showed up to the house again. I guess Rob would be able to vouch, but that was only if I sucked up with plenty of good bud. Dammit. Thinking critically about it, I knew I couldn’t just spring an “I have to go” conversation in the moment, not over warm food and pleasant company. I would only continue to rationalize things like this, where my beliefs would begin to shift back to a more sound environment- only to be yanked away with scolding myself for being suspicious and to dare question the people who welcomed me so warmly. Reverend brought me out of my head again with the light touch of his fingertips on my forearm. He was looking at my tattoos again, more of them shown now with my exposed arms. I was a scrawny kid but toned enough to show for it. He seemed to notice. His eyes flickered back to my face, then the bandage still tight around my hand. 

“I will need to say now that this is only part of your initiation,” He began slowly, waiting for any sign of rejection on my part. I gave none. He suddenly squeezed my palm, which gave a painful twinge. I resisted the urge to flinch and pull away. 

“You will get baptized too. But at a later date, there are other plans for the next few days with the summer solstice approaching.” 

I found myself nodding again like before. My brain didn’t fully process what he was saying, but the words sounded familiar enough that I could get the gist of his expectation. He seemed confident as ever, his eyes warm as his smile and I longed to melt into them more. He dropped his hand away from me when Mikey finally joined us at the table. It wasn’t a moment after that the older of the two had stood up, straightening his shirt out.

“I should head back,” he started, not waiting for me to say anything, “Bert is probably up by now, wondering where I’ve gone.” He turned on his heel to leave then, Michael only huffing through his nose in response as he woofed down his French toast.

“Who’s Bert?” I asked without thinking twice, swallowing a bit of coffee past the lump in my throat. The only thing I could wonder more, why was I getting so upset about the idea that someone else was in his life? 

“His partner,” Mikey explained casually, though the way he peered at me over the rim of his glasses told me he could tell exactly what was going through my mind. “But the Reverend’s relationships are complicated.”

I tipped my head, feeling my skin twinge around the wound on my hand. My doubt had seemed to become twisted up in the open flesh, and it would throb if I allowed myself to spiral into questions and deeper thought. I fidgeted anxiously with my thumb while I considered this new information, feeling more foolish. Did I really believe I stood a chance?  
“What do you mean by complicated?” I finally asked, holding my breath as I expected some “on again off again” answer or something along those lines.

“Well, Bert is meant to be… I can’t say, it’s not my place.” He could see my confusion still. He struggled with finding the right way to explain it to me, within the limitations he clearly had. I appreciated the effort, but I didn’t exactly ask it of him. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, raised a hand before dropping it back into his lap.  
“Fuck- sorry, um, Bert just isn’t going to be here long. He knows what he signed up for, and when the time comes, he has no choice but to be ready for it.”

“That’s not at all cryptic,” I replied sarcastically, getting a grin out of him. It was nice to have a friend in this place. As foreign and “out there” as it appeared on the surface, Mikey helped me feel grounded and like there was at least one person who knew more of the outside just as I did. For whatever reason, I took his answer simply, and didn’t think anything beyond it. 

“I’m gonna show you the farm today,” He beamed excitedly, chasing down his toast with a few sips of orange juice.  
“Oh yeah? I didn’t see any farm when we got here,” He waved a hand in my face quickly to stop me, and I just smirked, waiting for him to finish swallowing.

“Not that you could see, no. It’s a ways down, far from any prying hands.” He explained, waving a hand loosely in the direction of the woods outside. “Reverend and I took great care in protecting this place. It’s ours, and no one will be able to take that away.”

“Aw Mikes, that’s beautiful.” I teased, earning a light fist in my ribs that I curled away from with a grin. “Ow, hey, it’s a compliment!”

He laughed with me for a minute and then motioned for help clearing the table. He explained it was a rule to clean up after any activity in one’s household, whether it was dishes, housecleaning, laundry. Yep, this place was definitely old-fashioned, I remember thinking to myself. Part of me conspired that maybe there were tiny cameras around, watching and ensuring cleanliness was kept- but then again, where would the line be? Would they spy in bedrooms? And who would even do the spying, surely nobody could have all the time for that, and Reverend certainly didn’t…  
“Hey,” Mikey caught my attention again, realizing my arms were elbow deep in soapy water and I’d been scrubbing the same plate nonchalantly for a few moments.

“Right, sorry. Zoned out for a minute, um, any other rules in a typical home?”

Mikey clicked his tongue, taking the now more-than-thoroughly clean plate away from me to dry it off. 

“Children have a curfew of dusk, if they’re out of the house then there must be an adult present. Our curfew depends on the events usually, since we do hold traditions at certain times of the year. But typically midnight, anyone caught out visits Reverend in the chapel for their penance.”

“Penance?” I echoed, my voice squeaking a bit. 

I may not have retained much of the “education” Catholic schools provided me, but I remembered the word less than fondly. My knuckles would get smacked bloody with a ruler at least three times a week if not more, and it was worse doing it myself, cringing in pain in front of a stern-faced nun. My hands tingled as a reminder and I reached up to rub slowly at the ink there, soothing myself back down to realize Mikey was speaking again.

“It varies in severity dependent on the nature of the sin committed,” He explained, his eyes reading straight through the concern in my face. “Nobody’s been killed for penance.”

 _Would they ever be?_ I thought to myself. It was one thing to administer light punishment, like confessions or even just lines for a few hours after class. It was a whole other to inflict pain and humiliation on someone. My thoughts of wanting to return home came back to the forefront, but I was uncertain if there was any worth in asking.  
I hurried to change the subject, feeling my stomach curling uncomfortably. 

“Right, um, listen, would you be able to take me back into town?”

You would think I just punched him by how the light seeped from his face. His eyes grew hard, glancing toward the gauze on my hand and motioning to it. He cleared his throat audibly, his brow furrowed. 

“This is your home now. You made that decision last night, Frank. We were all there. Don’t you remember?”

I did, I guess. But I didn’t think…I wasn’t in this for life, right? It was just a group of hippies and peacekeepers living together in the woods. There was nothing sinister or bad in that, and anyone could come and go if they wanted… 

“So we can’t leave.” I concluded, feeling my brain processing painfully slow.

“Oh, you can. For visits or any outings, but Reverend has to approve. And you must disclose where you plan on going, who you see, and for how long. Reverend gives you a time to be back.” 

“What happens if you’re late?”

“Penance for tardiness. You seem to be very hung up on punishments.” Mikey derailed from the question back to my feelings, which irritated me a bit. 

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m just…trying to figure out everything, you know? I’m a rule follower.” He laughed at me when I said that. Clearly by the looks of me, I was absolutely not someone who followed authority with a willing heart and mind. Clearly that would need to change in my new environment. The night before had left my head hazy, Reverend’s soft words and his touching me and everything felt right in the moment- no, I was on my own. My mom needed me home, I had to go.

“Do you think he’d let me, um, Reverend I mean- could I go see my mom? Just to like, let her know I’m not dead or something?”

Mikey just blinked at me, his expression had turned stony like it had the day I met him, when I was questioning too much. He put on a small smile after a moment, shrugging. “Worth a try, I think he likes you.”

Those words made my heart pound too eagerly. This was his brother, I’m sure he would know Reverend best- but that was the validation I needed in the moment.

“Guess I’ll go see him then, if we’re done here.”

Mikey waved a hand at me, turning back to the sink. “Go on, I’ll finish up here. As long as one of us does it.” He mused. “Remember I told you about spare clothes.”

“Right,” I called, making my way back to my bedroom. I found some neatly folded shorts, pants, and button up or plain t-shirts in the dresser drawers. I took to some black shorts and a white tee, simple enough. I mean, Reverend wasn’t royalty by any means, but I didn’t want to make a bad impression. I had clearly won his good side over, and part of me knew it would be in my benefit to not lose that. 

I neatened my hair in the bathroom mirror, the ginger had been fading for a while, just sticking out on the tips now like little flames fading into my natural dark brown. I didn’t hate it, but I was already itching for red now. Maybe they didn’t have opposition against hair color, though that would be a question for another time. I looked myself over one more time before I went to leave the cabin, hollering a goodbye to Mikey behind me as the screen door slammed shut again.  
It was a quick turn on the path up the hill, the steps were steep like I remembered though it added to the gloomy aesthetic that Reverend’s home resonated in. I was startled when I made my way to the front steps, only to almost run into the tall man that was exiting. He steadied himself and me with a hand on my shoulder. He had plenty of ink too, curling around both his arms, a bit of a mop top and undercut, and a fine beard. He gave me a quick smile, patting my shoulder once he saw my face.

“Oh hey! You’re Frank, right? Reverend just took you in last night.”

I blushed a little at the thought of Reverend discussing me with other people, giving a quick nod to acknowledge the stranger. 

“Uh, yeah. That was me,” I cracked a sheepish smile, raising my hand as proof. 

“Well, welcome, welcome. I’m Bert, automobile and hunting extraordinaire. You lemme know if you need anything or you wanna learn something,” 

He clapped me hard on the shoulder again before pushing past me, hurrying down the steps and off toward the community hall out of sight. I thought he seemed interesting, a bit off the walls and eccentric, but interesting.  
I enjoyed people like that, the ones who always have plenty to say. 

“Frank,” the signature cool voice came from the doorway, my head popping back up to see Reverend looming beyond the open door with a smile.

“Oh, hi, um, I got distracted. May I have a word?” I had never had any real manners before, but something in me had just clicked. The respect and courtesy fell into place with his presence and I knew better than to ignore it. 

“Of course, you could have let yourself in.” He smiled again, damn him. I moseyed up the steps toward him and moved inside, where he closed the door and cast us into the shadowy darkness that lay in the foyer. His gas lamps were lit, but they only provided enough light to make sure you wouldn’t bump into something. 

“What brings you by?” He touched my side when he moved again, beckoning me to follow into the parlor where he poured a cup of coffee from a silver Moka pot. He set the mug aside for me, revealing a small porcelain pitcher of milk and a sugar bowl with a spoon in it already, waiting. 

“Thanks,” I mumbled, stirring in a bit of sugar and milk when I took a seat on the firm leather couch. I let silence fall over us both for a moment while taking a sip, enjoying the heat flowing through me from the top down.  
I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. 

“I was here to ask, um, Michael told me that we needed permission to go somewhere, that is, outside of here.”

“That is correct,” he had his own cup perched delicately between his hands, lips blowing the surface every time before he sipped. He looked like a mannequin, almost too perfect to exist in this space. But the way his hair fell over his face when his head dipped, and the flow of any movement he made, I was entranced. 

“I was wondering if I could go see my mom,” I raised a hand so I could finish. “Just to like, let her know I’m okay. She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Do you want to leave, Frank? Are we not what you expected?” His tone almost sounded hurt, and he wasn’t looking at me now. His eyes had locked on the gently flickering flame of the candle centered in the middle of the coffee table between us. 

“No.” I found myself saying automatically, though my insides violently turned. Yes and no. My subconscious couldn’t afford to figure it out now, not on the spot.

“Just to let her know, I mean, can always just make a lie about college or road tripping. I kind of wanted to get my guitar back, too.”

“You play?” Reverend looked at me again, sounding intrigued with the idea.

I allowed him a half smile, shrugging. “I mean, I’m not a pro or anything, but my dad played drums, so did my granddad. Guitar just kinda…came naturally for me. Like, don’t get me wrong drums are cool, and good for getting some energy out, but guitar just feels like a second body to me.” I didn’t realize how much I was talking, but the man seated across from me never stopped smiling, seeing the passion in my face and how my hands moved endlessly while I spoke. 

“If I can get it, I- um, I would be honored to play for you.” I offered finally, a little hopeful in pleading my case. 

Reverend cleared his throat quietly, leaning back in his seat as if to mull the idea over. He settled his gaze on me again and I knew he’d made his decision, I expected it.

“That is a tempting offer, Frank. But I will tell you no, for right now. You only just got here, and there is much to learn. It is not my aim to keep you from your family, Frank. But I need to be able to trust in your loyalties. I need to know you will ultimately stay with us.” 

That was heavy, but… I understood it. This was a way of life for them, for me now, I guess. I couldn’t live with one foot in either world, that would end badly. I stuck to nodding my head instead of saying anything more, looking down to finish off the drink in my hands. 

“Look at me, Frank.” His voice pulled me back out of my head, his face was soft when I met it. He knew he’d disappointed me, but I could tell he wasn’t regretful of the fact. He meant to ensure my belonging, and that included making some tough decisions on my behalf. 

He was scouring me again with those eyes, he had leaned forward in his seat without my noticing. His hand reached for something in my face, startling me when his fingertip gingerly touched the metal hoop in my nose, then dropped to brush over the one in my lip too. Bert had had a lip ring too when I encountered him, I guess Reverend liked the so-called “alternative” look, it held his attention- gave him plenty to look at. I felt oddly like a dog being appraised at a show, though in Reverend’s eyes, I would have easily been best in show. 

“I like these.” He spoke softly, leaning back in his chair again to give me space. I instinctively wiggled my nose, as I usually did when I’d mess with the ring myself. 

“Thank you, Father.” The words rolled off my tongue again. He swelled a bit with pride at the address.

“Would you like to join me for dinner this evening, Frank? I don’t normally sit with the flock unless it’s a holiday, our cooks come here nightly after the rest have been fed.” He kept himself separate from the rest, that made me feel weary of the invitation. Or should I tell anyone? I immediately began to worry if the rest of the group would despise me for taking such a personal offer when I had only just arrived here a day before. 

“I…um, would the, rest of the group not be upset?” I didn’t hold back. I needed to hear it from his own mouth that this would not run any risk in my social status. I wanted to feel like I belonged here, not like a teacher’s pet.

“Anyone who has been called on by me considers it an honor, Frank. They know it isn’t earned lightly, and they have no reason to speak against it.” He was too good at that, petting my anxieties as if they were a nervous animal. I was soothed again before my hands could start to tremble. 

I nodded slowly, allowing myself a nervous smile. “I would be happy to then, when would you like me?”

“I’ll expect you at seven sharp, don’t be late.” His words were firm, but his body language spoke gently. He rose from his seat, beckoning toward the door with a graceful wave of the hand. “I expect Michael’s waiting for you now, get you acquainted with the farm work today.”

Oh shit, right. Mikey was still out there. I had only meant to take a few minutes but glancing at the clock found at least an hour had gone by. I hurried to my feet, turning to offer my hand to Reverend’s in a shake. He took it to reciprocate the action, but instead raised my knuckles to kiss them, then patting my hand before dropping it away with a warm smile.

“I’ll see you tonight then, Frank. Good luck.”

He wasn’t calling me “his son” anymore, I noticed. I didn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thoroughly enjoy writing the conflicting inner dialogue with frank. happy reading!


	5. fear in love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank is home, but it's haunting him. especially the first time.
> 
> TW for coercion/dubious consent.

“That’s enough,” Linda snapped when Ray clicked the recorder button for the millionth time to add to his notes of everything Frank had spilled for the last two hours. Once the boy started talking, he didn’t stop until he was silenced by the detective raising his hand to instigate pause. He’d shrunk back in his seat when Linda raised her voice, pulling his knees up into his chest and securing his thin arms around them. 

“Mrs. Iero-” Ray began, only to be interrupted again when Linda smacked her hand on the table, the rattle of its legs and the loud clack of her rings echoing off the walls. 

“Don’t _Mrs. Iero_ me, my baby is exhausted. We’re going home. If you want more from him, it’ll be after he can sleep in his own damn bed. God only knows what they did to him out there.”

Frank voiced no objection to this, his head dipped submissively as his mother spoke for him. The dead silent teenager who had been brought in hours before had returned, in stark contrast to the boy who couldn’t hold his tongue once he was given the opportunity to tell his story. Ray could see the defeat written all over Frank and it made his heart sink. He heaved a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. 

Linda’s hard stare made it clear that there was no arguing. It was a quarter after one in the morning by this time, and with what they had recorded thus far- there was a plethora of information to continue building a case. They had names, suspects, a possible location, it was enough for now. He waved a hand, scooting his chair back to get up and retrieve his things.

“Very well. It would be unfair of me to keep you here longer than necessary. But Frank,” He spoke directly toward the teen, who appeared no less than a child in his seat. 

“I want you to journal for me. Everything you could possibly remember, anything at all. Could you do that for me, please? It’d be a lot easier next time you come by.” 

Frank sniffed, glancing in the detective’s direction with tired eyes. He settled for a slow nod. He remembered when he’d taken to writing songs and journaling, how he was certain he had more than enough notebooks to jot things down at home. He was by no means an Oscar Wilde or Harper Lee, but he could do well to illustrate events as they happened. 

_He was going home_. That was a new feeling. Frank sniffed again, throwing his sleeve up in front of his face to wipe at his eyes before his mother could start making a fuss all over again, about “how they made her baby cry” or anything else that had set her off that evening. They had both been through enough for one night, and for Frank, enough for probably his lifetime. That said too much for a teenager who had barely peaked eighteen. No, it wasn’t October yet, but in a few weeks. He remembered when they celebrated his birthday, what He did. . .

Linda was still glaring hard at Ray, her hand rubbing absentmindedly on Frank’s shoulder- though for the teen it was much too firm a grip, digging into the bruises beneath his shirt. He recoiled with a slightly pained expression, shaking his head. “Ow, mom.” He mumbled. 

She pulled away at once, looking mortified that she’d been the cause of her son being in any further pain. She fussed over him a moment, smoothing his hair, only to be waved off again as the teen moved to his feet. His body felt like a block of lead, though he had a little more energy after spending hours off his feet. His head spun from lethargy, leaving him woozy and his knees threatening to give out beneath him at any time. But Frank had just enough juice left in the tank to get himself out of the room, his mother close behind and giving any curious detective a stare filled with the sharpest knives. 

Frank remained silent on the drive home. He found that any memory of his mother’s house had vanished. When they pulled into the driveway, it was as if they were moving in for the first time. It was a single floor mid-century modern, with soft red bricks and a freshly-painted front porch. Frank felt his heart sink, knowing life had more or less carried on without him. He noticed his father’s car was missing from the driveway, the signature old blue Cadillac that he treasured so much. Linda’s hand gently caressing his arm when the car pulled to a stop made him turn, meeting her eyes with a sheepish look. He knew better than to ask about his father’s absence, that would be conversation for another time. The agonized look on her face told him everything he needed to know. He wouldn’t be coming back, but they would be alright. 

“Your room is just as you left it, I didn’t touch a thing.” She whispered, pulling him close into a gentle hug. 

“Thanks, ma.” Frank mumbled against the rough fabric of her sweater. 

“And honey,” she pulled back to look her son in the face, eyes full of concern.  
“You don’t have to relive everything...not if you don’t want to, I’m sure the police have more than what they need from you now.” 

Frank bit his lip, finding the ring there was sore as if it were freshly pierced again. He shook his head, brows knitting together. “No, ma, I’m- I want to. There’s people out there who need rescuing too, if I don’t help, then what was the point of me being found at all?” 

Her son’s bold words startled Linda into silence. She looked like she wanted to object, but the light of courage and sincerity in her son’s eyes made her think twice about speaking against him now. She settled for squeezing his shoulders, clearing her throat quietly and letting Frank move away from her grip to open the passenger door and climb out into the night. She mimicked him, fiddling with her ring of keys to unlock the front door. 

Once inside, Frank found his muscle memory took him directly to the hall leading down to his room. He paused, turning toward the bathroom next to it instead. It was late for a shower, but his body ached for it. His muscles, his dry skin, and greasy hair- yeah, a hot shower sounded like heaven. In little time he stood beneath the warm stream, eyes shut and letting the water flow over him, casting his pain and trauma down the drain by his feet. He gently scrubbed through his hair, the sharp scent of his rosemary shampoo bringing comfort back to his senses. As if it couldn’t come at the worst time, he remembered when another would join him in a vulnerable place like this. During those times, he felt safe, secure, he felt appreciated and special and loved. No, that was ownership. He shook his head to rinse out his hair, wincing when a bit of soap got in his eye. He would heal from this. He would be okay. If only things could have ended with him coming home and he wouldn’t have to relive it again for the sake of others. How often he cursed himself for the overwhelming compassion in his heart. Linda had left a pile of folded clothes for him, washed he assumed from when he’d originally left them on the floor to come back to later, except he didn’t. It felt nice to bury his nose in the fresh cotton t-shirt, inhaling the smell for a few moments. The normalcy of something as simple as clean laundry, the smell of home, was a shock to his system, but not unwelcome by any means. 

His door had been left shut, and as his mother said, nothing had been moved. It was the neat mess of a punk teen’s domain. Dark blue walls were covered in band posters, messy artwork he’d done in the past, some autographs he’d received at shows and wouldn’t dream of throwing out. His beloved guitar sat dusty, but alive on its stand in the corner, waiting for him as it always did. A white Les Paul his grandfather had given him for his birthday the year before he passed. Frank had named it Pansy, in loving memory of all the times his school bullies had called him such. It was spelled out just so in chunky black stickers along the body. His bookshelf was chalk full of comic books, mainly Batman, The Joker, and several others. He’d always spent weekends or afternoons following school heading straight for the local shop to see what they had for him next. Coupled with the books were little figurines he’d collected, some of the superheroes he loved, and some that he messily painted himself for a D&D campaign that he’d not yet been able to get off the ground. 

The only thing Frank could focus on in the moment however, was his bed. The rumpled sheets and pillows beckoned to him and he more than happily went over to it, tossing the damp towel onto the floor somewhere and falling heavily onto his mattress, which gave a low squeak beneath his weight. The overwhelming tiredness creeping through his body was unavoidable, and his eyes snapped shut within moments. The last thing Frank could hear was his mother gently shutting his bedroom door, casting the room into darkness. Quiet. Peace. 

-  
“And this is Vanessa,” Mikey cooed, stroking his hand down the back of a brilliantly chocolate brown-spotted bovine, who mooed contentedly at the attention. Her belly was swollen and heavy with a calf that would be born within the next few days. Mikey had explained to me that I could help with the birth if I had the stomach for it. I did. 

“She’s precious,” I reached out to scratch the soft spot on the cow’s forehead, her fluffy ears twitching happily and her tail swished. What a simple life for an animal, munching away at plenty of food, getting petted and well looked after in a pregnancy. I remembered times when I was young, wishing I could be a dog for the longest time. I always thought shapeshifting would have been a cool skill. I smiled to myself, looking up when Mikey moved out of the stall and beckoned me to follow. 

“Every creature here is treated with respect, even the ones we kill.” Mikey explained, the words turning my insides a bit. I understood vegetarianism wasn’t a universal practice, but at least I knew that here they were treated as well as they could be. It certainly wasn’t the hellhole that were factory farms across the country, with animals crammed on top of each other and sloppily killed left and right. Here they had room, acres of land to wander to their heart’s content. Here, the babies stayed with their mothers, they were allowed to grow up before any future was decided for them. Some were sold in town at the market, some were kept, others used for food and other means. Mikey told me how nothing was wasted if they could help it. Everything had purpose in this place, sentient or otherwise. 

He led me across the aisle toward another set of stalls where a few horses were kept. I quickly took a liking to the big black stallion, who tossed his head at me and nickered when I brought out a treat for him. Ironically, they called him Lucifer. 

“Interesting,” Mikey said, watching me stroking the horse’s broad muzzle. “He doesn’t like anyone, usually gives them a good snap.”

I felt my pride swell a bit, giving Mikey a matching smile. “I always had a way with animals, my Ma says. Spent some summers volunteering at shelters and stuff."

“I’m impressed, Frank. Maybe I’ll ask Reverend to focus your duties over here.” He reached to shut the window on Lucifer’s stall, the horse giving an arrogant huff and stomping his large feathered hoof in response.

“I’d like that, Mikes. Thanks.” He just dipped his head at me, brushing past to make his way to the large sliding doors. We each took one to push shut behind us, the metal hinges creaking softly and settling into the soft dirt beneath them. It was around noon now, the warm sun casting a pleasant heat on our shoulders. The sounds of chirping birds and insects filled the air as I trailed Mikey along the edges of the fields, him pointing out different crops and those who were tending to them. It wasn’t harvest season yet, but there was always work to be done. The thought of harvest made me excited for fall. I loved when the air began to chill and my birthday, of course. I had yet to find out how they celebrated events like those here, that is if such traditions existed in their way of life. 

We retreated to the community hall for a quick bite. The food was fresh, hot and surprisingly delicious. They had quite a few skilled chefs in their midst, as well as former culinary students who had perfected the craft on their own steam. I was pleased that they had veggie options for those who wanted them, and I ate happily until my stomach was full. Part of me longed for an afternoon nap, but Mikey urged me out again into the compound. He took me over to the schoolhouse, which was bigger on the inside than I expected it to be. The students had their own rooms varying by grade, and it appeared to be an effective system. Religion did seem to play a part in the curriculum, I judged by the crosses decorating the interior, and the references to gospel in displayed artwork or written papers by the students on display. Instead of Jesus, I saw mentions of Reverend’s name all over. _Gerard_. I had almost forgotten he had a name.  
It was easy to get swept up in all there was to learn about this place. Mikey and I ended up sitting in on a few classes. The graduating age here was around sixteen, and thus teenagers were considered more adult by then. I had to admit I was impressed. The friendly-looking gentleman teaching the histories was good at holding the class’s attention, and I learned bits and pieces of how Gerard received his initial prophecies and what they meant for him, and how he was ordered to build this place from the ground up. From the way the teacher looked at me on occasion, he knew who I was. In fact, I noticed everyone in the room cast a glance my way, attempting to be discreet. I felt every one of their eyes. They weren’t looking out of malice or suspicion. I knew what curiosity looked like. Not to mention I didn’t know if Reverend spoke of me to others when I wasn’t in the room. The thought of him discussing me with the same fondness he did when we were face to face made butterflies erupt in my stomach. 

I remembered then, he expected me for dinner that night. It was almost six now. The older students had class later in the day, while the youngest started in the morning and finished early afternoon. It made me wish we had similar scheduling when I was at school- getting up at six every morning never mixed well with me. We were soon dismissed and Mikey ushered me out before any curious students could come swarming. He knew what I had planned that night and had promised to help me look my best.

“Truthfully speaking,” he said while fixing a red tie around my neck, looking like blood against the white button up he’d given me to wear. We were in his room and he’d given me some clothes from his closet, though pants were definitely hard to fit given his long legs and my short ones.  
“He isn’t difficult to impress, but it never hurts.” He fastened the knot neatly against my throat, then turned me around to look in the full-body mirror. He’d reluctantly let me keep my hair spiky and a bit of a mess, but in a way it suited me. I guess he didn’t want to openly admit he liked it, and I shudder to think what he would’ve wanted to do with it otherwise. 

“Damn, you’re good at this.” I flashed a grin, and he fixed me a warning look about the swear word dropping from my mouth. That was an adamant rule here, clean language, even if he slipped it up at times himself. We were all sinners, as they liked to say. 

“Right, my bad.” I nodded in understanding, and he patted my shoulders before stepping back. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” He teased, cutting the serious act which made my nerves lessen a bit. Sure, I looked good and wasn’t that intimidated but any time I was in the room with Reverend, it felt like every fiber in me was being electrocuted, but on a much softer scale. 

I made the walk once again up to Reverend’s home, this time letting myself in the door like he’d proposed I do earlier that morning. I felt odd, considering I’d not been here long and already felt comfortable enough to allow me free access to his home. The intoxicating smell of pasta primavera hit my nostrils, sending my mouth flooding with excitement. My Italian roots were on high alert, and once again- how the hell did he know? 

“Frank,” My head snapped up at attention, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips. He was in his uniform, but on a more casual scale. Long sleeves and pants, with the telltale collar and cross at his neck. As usual, he was beautiful. In the light of the gas lamps and the candles around the house, his honey-golden eyes glinted at me. In a sense looking back, it was like a playful predator the way he looked at me, intent on making its prey comfortable before making any sudden movements. But right then, I was just entranced as I always was around him. Him existing alone was captivating.

“You look very nice,” he commented, stepping toward me with a hand outstretched. I took it with a smile, letting him shake mine and keep our fingers entangled for just a moment too long after.  
“Mikey helped me dress.” I explained, puffing out my chest a bit to show off the tie better. It had a slight sheen to it even in the low light. His fingers moved from mine to touch it, straightening the garment ever so slightly and smoothing my shirt over my chest. I resisted the breath hitching in my throat at the gentle touch, feeling goosebumps exploding on my skin underneath.  
“I can see that. He’s quite the eye for fashion.” He mused softly, his eyes meeting mine again. “Come in, the table’s set.”

I let him guide me toward his dining room, set elegantly with silver candlesticks all alight, a maroon tablecloth that descended into neat tassels at the edges. A bottle of some kind of alcohol sat at the head of the table, amongst the array of food. I recognized the pasta immediately, along with potatoes, cabbage, fresh bread and butter, and other delicacies I couldn’t recognize by sight alone. The smell was phenomenal. A hand on my shoulder led me to sit, Reverend glancing down at me while gesturing to the empty wine glass at my place. “Do you drink, Frank?”  
“I could have a bit, sure.” I figured disclosing the fact that I had had my fair share of totally illegal, but unforgettable parties in my school years wasn’t exactly the most appropriate dinner conversation. He smiled at me, taking the bottle to uncork it and pour my cup half full. It was a white wine to my relief, red was always too bitter for me. It had floral and fruity notes to it, making my mouth salivate eagerly again. I heard him chuckle while I took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol flood my insides. 

He stepped away from me to take his seat on the opposite end of the table, facing me. The candlelight illuminated his face like he was about to lead a seance, and was just waiting to join hands with me. He poured his own cup and nodded to me to dig in, a pleasant silence falling between us for a time. As expected, the food was the best I’d had in a long time. I hadn’t been to a five-star restaurant or anything in my life. The only “fine dining” I considered was my grandmother’s original recipes straight from the homeland. But I believed I didn’t expect less in his presence. Everything around him was perfect because he made it so. 

“Frank,” He always spoke my name so gently.

“Yes, Father?” I replied, clearing my throat and reaching for the cloth napkin at my side.

“You don’t need to call me that while we’re alone.” His tone had shifted, less like a priest but still garnering obedience from me. 

“What should I call you then?” I had an idea of what he wanted, but I wanted to hear him say it himself first.

“Gerard will do just fine.” He smiled at me again, tipping his own glass to his lips. “I’d prefer it of you, anyway.”

The words made my stomach flip flop. Now wasn’t the time to feel nauseous, would be a waste of good food. The effect he had on me was intense, and I knew he could feel it too. I held my breath when he moved to stand up, holding my eyes when he approached me once more. His warm hand took my shoulder, squeezing it softly. 

“Join me in the parlor,” he said simply. It wasn’t a question nor a command, but I had the irresistible pull to obey him. So I did.

The next thing I remembered were warm hands on my face. Warm lips. His body pressing me gently into his mahogany bookshelves. My brain swam, struggling to find solid ground, words to deny him, an ability to push him back and reevaluate what was happening. But I didn’t. I allowed myself to float along the peaceful river he made for me.  
I was kissing back. He’d told me I was special, maybe this is what he meant by that. He held me gently, but firmly, making it clear his desire for me right away. I shakily raised my hands to his shoulders, fingers itching to thread through that dark hair. He allowed me, moving my wrist himself to entwine it in those ebony locks. They were velvety soft as I thought it would be. He made a soft croon in his throat at my touch. 

“G-Gerard,” I finally sputtered out when he let me breathe, the room had become almost unbearably hot. My skin was boiling beneath my shirt, and it was all too obvious what was going on below our belts. 

“Don’t talk,” He breathed against the skin of my throat, his fingers had already loosened my tie enough to expose it for him. He was mouthing, _oh god_ , teething at the sensitive flesh. I obeyed, letting him work his way down with open mouthed kisses, latching onto my collarbone with his teeth and leaving red marks in his wake. I knew I would have plenty to try and cover up in the morning, if he allowed me to go that soon. His hands were everywhere on me, caressing, pulling clothes, splaying upon smooth skin. He found all my tattoos without looking, fingertips tracing over the ink work. The rational part of me had disappeared, he had consumed my senses and any knowledge of my own free will. He was sinking down in front of me, hands finding my belt. I finally mustered the courage to stop him, scrambling to grab his wrists.

“I-I, wait, wait-“ I pleaded, my voice sounded small and far away. But he listened, looking up at me through his curtain of dark hair. His eyes had a hunger in them, but tame enough to hear what I needed to say.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He purred, his nose brushing against the point of my hip bone and making me shiver. 

“I’ve not… I can’t do this, I’m not…”

“You’re not ready.” He finished for me, trying to hide the disappointment in his tone. He slowly rose to his feet again, keeping my hands wrapped in his own. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.” 

God, did I _want_ to. He could read it all over my face, could feel it in my lips when he kissed me again, still heated, but gentler this time. 

“N-no, I’m-“ I tried to object again but he silenced me, his hand encapsulating my jaw. I had it in me to brace an arm on his chest, pushing him backward just enough so I could find my voice. 

“I’m a virgin.” I admitted quickly, ducking my head. If it was out of shame I didn’t know it. I felt embarrassed. Why was I admitting this to a man several years my senior? Not to mention a man in the position he held. Everything in me was trying to scream to stop this now before I got in too deep. But the way he held me, stroking his fingers along the side of my face, down my chest… I was completely lost. 

“There is no fear in love, sweet one.” He murmured, quoting something I couldn’t put a name to. He had lifted me up then, surprising me with how strong he was. I clung onto him with arms and legs, his lips finding mine as he moved us from the room. I knew where we were going, and I didn’t stop him again. 

A plush bed underneath me was the next thing I felt, and Gerard’s warm body covering me like a blanket. He had lost his rosary, his collar, his shirt. He was all on display for me, more pale skin, toned arms and body. Reveling in the warm candlelight surrounding us, He was God. His skilled fingers had removed my pants, his own, my boxers. He was leaning over me, black hair tickling my face. 

The look in his honey eyes had frightened me before, now I was lost in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodness this was fun to write. enjoy, lovelies.


	6. armageddon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank finally faces him. he can't hurt him anymore.

Nestled into a warm body, the heaviness in the air hanging around us in a dense fog, the gears in my brain grinding to life once more as realization happened upon me. That happened, and it had been beautiful. 

_“Shhh, I have you, darling.” He whispered against my ear, slickened fingers pressing tenderly inside one at a time to stretch me. He knew I had never done this, and that I was so eager to try. His touch made my head swim, the bundle of nerves he brushed with his fingertips making my spine arch and my mouth drop open with the most unholy noises I didn’t know I had the ability to make. I could feel him pushing against my thigh, hot and firm. I’d never come this close to any physical intimacy outside a sloppy handjob in a movie theater once or twice. My senses were entirely clouded by his invigorating scent. I was putty in his hands. He could do anything he wanted with me, and he knew it._

_“Please, Ger- ah!” I whimpered when he hit my prostate again, feeling the grin in his voice as he continued to whisper soft nothings. His voice was satin and velvet, matching the sheets that were thoroughly disheveled beneath our bodies. He had me on my stomach as the tantalizingly pleasurable acts kept on. Time was lost to me. We were in our own world where he called every shot, every move, even the answers I gave. Periodically he would ask if I was alright to continue, and I would nod. My voice had long been lost in the throes of ecstasy, the high seemingly impossible to escape. When he finally pressed into me, everything was ablaze. My senses heightened to an impossible degree, fists curled tightly in the sheets beneath us. His motions were precise, with the intent to make me cry in pleasure. And I did so, too many times to count. When he came once, he did not stop. His hand reached beneath us, jerking me off fast and hard. I no doubt ruined the sheets several times. But that didn’t matter. His determination to have all of me showed. The low growls he gave when marking me with his teeth, his nails. He made certain I could feel every inch of him plunging inside, filling me beyond satisfaction. My skin was buzzing like a cut wire, sparks flying all over in the form of perspiration._

_“Stay here,” he murmured against my damp hair, slowly detaching himself from me to get up from the bed in which we’d laid our sins to rest. I felt I could sink straight through the mattress and deep into the earth below, my limbs were jelly and my head floating in liquid space somewhere far away._

_His return signaled when a cold cloth touched my back, slowly wiping away any mess that remained on my skin. The sensation felt nice, a hum emitting from my throat as he cleaned me gently. Always so tender, like I was a treasured lamb. He stroked a hand down my spine when he was finished, I half arched into it like a cat. I could hear the smile on his face. He was pleased with me, I had done well._

“What about Bert?” I croaked out, my voice still raw. He passed me a glass of icy water instead of answering right away. I didn’t complain, downing half the cup. I kept my eyes on him, insistent that he wouldn’t dismiss my question. I knew Bert was his partner. Unless it was an unspoken rule, he had cheated. I played along and was just as guilty, though I’d been caught up in the moment. Anyone my age would have done the same. I was naive. I didn’t know any better, only what felt thrilling and too good to resist. 

“What of him, dove?” His voice was quiet, sounding far away at the mention of the name. It didn’t make much sense to me. I’d met the man that day, spoken some friendly words. The way Reverend held his tone, one would think Bert was now a past tense. That he’d gone. I didn’t believe that. 

“I…what we did, you cheated.” That felt a bit cliché. In my defense, I was still on my long plummet down from cloud nine. The ‘right’ choice of words were not exactly something one would find again right after mind-blowing sex. Mind-blowing, it was definitely that.  
He gave me a fond look, now lounging on his back beside me. One hand reached up to tuck a loose curl of hair behind my ear, his fingertips falling against my cheek and down again. 

I shook him off, frowning. “I mean it, Gerard.” 

He only frowned back at me, shifting the blankets aside to let himself up without another word. I felt my heart sink, instead of blaming him I immediately began to wonder what I’d done wrong. Maybe, perhaps, something had already transpired that I didn’t know about. Maybe it was an open relationship and I’d insulted him by calling it cheating? The tension in the room fell heavily, and it wasn’t the ruby red kind fueled by lust and passion as it had been hours prior. This one was grey, fading into inky blackness. I didn’t like it, felt suffocating like smoke from a growing fire. 

He left the room, passing through a door that what I assumed led to a bathroom. I heard the sounds of running water. Something in me was pulled to follow him, but I didn’t move. When I eventually regained feeling in my legs, I decided to go back to my shared cabin with Mikey. I quietly gathered my clothes and redressed, shrugging on my shirt and pants. From the window view, it was long dark outside. The elder ticking clock down in the foyer notified me it was well after two in the morning. How easy it was to lose track of time when I was with him. But the sinking feeling in my stomach remained, was this ever going to happen again? 

I tried to not dwell on the idea, and instead focused on getting myself back to the cabin in the dark without tripping over my own feet or whatever obstacles happened to be in my way. There were a few lamps lit throughout the compound, closely resembling the modern world streetlights, and barely enough light so I had a vague sense of direction. I made it in one piece, but paused when something captured my attention.

Some lights were moving in the distance, near the chapel. 

Then I saw shadows, people in hoods. There were a pair toward the front, holding a semi-limp body upright while they walked, this one was either hooded or blindfolded. I immediately grew suspicious. 

-

Frank had to throw his pen down then, his hands beginning to shake. That was enough. He could do more later but the memories were growing too vivid and his anxiety was spiking fast. Rationally speaking, he knew nobody from this place would find him, nor would they know what he had said, written… everything in his guilty conscience screamed _Stop, they know_.  
As if the boy had summoned the events that came after, Linda came knocking gently at his door, sending Frank jumping a foot out of his seat. He resisted a yelp of surprise, clapping the cover of his journal closed.

“Yeah, ma?” He called, forcing his voice to stabilize itself. 

Linda slowly cracked his door open, wearing a face of both fright and concern. Her face was white as a sheet, her lips pressed together, none of the natural pink visible. She wrung her hands for a moment, seeming to figure out the best way to communicate what she had just learned. 

“I think...you need to come see this, sweetheart.” She spoke in almost a whisper, her tone not making Frank feel any more comfortable with what this was about. He rose from his seat, trailing behind Linda as she led him out to the living room. The chatter from the news on the television reached his ears before Frank saw the vivid red letters scrolling across the screen.

_“Breaking: Discovered Compound up in Flames, 70+ Dead. Leader Apprehended. More to come.”_

Frank’s heart dropped. The footage continued to roll, the cabins ablaze and crumbling into black ashen heaps. Everything that he’d known to be good and a home for him those two years- they were gone. The people… Frank didn’t want to think about that, but it was unavoidable. No one could have survived that, if they did it was by the greatest miracle from God. 

No, God had no part in this. He wouldn’t have allowed it to happen at all. 

Frank stared blankly at the screen, feeling tears sting the corners of his eyes. _Leader apprehended_. So, Gerard was still alive. His heart gave a painful jerk in his chest. Of all people, he was the last Frank believed that deserved to live. Then the anger rolled in. Was Mikey dead too? His friend that had protected him, comforted him, as loyal a friend as any Frank had met in his life. Was he gone? Did Gerard not care? Reverend… Frank wanted to spit in his face. The news anchor gave detail of where he was being held in custody, in the city not far from where they lived now. It was anticipated he would be placed on death row for the murder of his following, among other charges that Frank didn’t care to listen in on. His fists curled at his sides, and he was moving without a second thought. He grabbed his mother’s car keys, heading straight for the door with intent. 

He heard Linda call after him but he didn’t stop, and she didn’t follow him. She stood at the door to watch him climb into the black station wagon and pull off onto the road. Frank hadn’t driven since he had gotten his license the summer before he was roped into that place, but just like riding a bike, everything came rushing back to him. His hands clenched hard around the wheel, inked knuckles turning white at the grip. 

The drive between him leaving the house and turning into the station where Gerard was being kept had been a blur. Frank kept his direction at the forefront of his mind, slamming the door shut when he got out of the car and moved to the doors. He approached the desk where a semi-friendly-looking woman sat behind a glass panel. She looked up only when he cleared his throat to get attention.

“Can I help you, honey?”

“My name is Frank Iero, I was here for uh, questioning about your current suspect in custody.”

“Iero, you said?” She confirmed, going to type something on her computer. She looked as if she were about to refuse Frank entry on grounds of confidentiality or that he had no more business butting into the case- when Ray busted out one of the doors leading to the back, his tired face lighting up when he saw Frank.

“I was just about to call your home, boy.” He breathed a sigh of relief, striding forward to shake Frank’s hand a bit too hard. 

“I- yeah, um, thought I should come. I want to talk to him.” Frank stated plainly, sounding more like he wanted to convince himself that this was the right choice. 

Ray furrowed his brows a bit, looking surprised by the teen’s statement. Of all things, one would expect a victim of a crime to not willingly face their abuser unless it was to testify against them in court. The expression on Frank’s face seemed to tell Ray all he needed to know, he wanted closure, whatever that looked like for him. He gave another, heavier sigh, patting Frank on the shoulder with a final nod.

“Alright, son. Here,” he passed a temporary ID badge over to Frank that the secretary had slid under the glass panel toward them. Frank looped it around his neck, turning with Ray to follow him through the back labyrinth of hallways. The growing sense of dread had become more noticeable now that Frank was here. Knots were curling and uncurling his insides, his throat had gone dry and his hands shook gently again. He tucked them in his hoodie pocket to stop it being as noticeable. He didn’t want _him_ to know he still feared him in a way. Part of Frank hoped that upon seeing the man, alone, cuffed, and in a place where no more harm could be done by his hand- maybe, just maybe he would find him in a different light. A sad, pathetic one. Undeserving of anything but the punishment that would soon befall him. 

Ray paused when they reached the room where Frank could see Gerard through the one-way glass, hunched over just as he was when he had underdone his own questioning. His hair was a mess. Faint marks of what could be burns or ash residue from setting everything aflame. If there was blood on his hands, literally, or anywhere else- Frank couldn’t tell at first glance. He felt his heart twist icily in his chest. 

This was it.

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to do this.” Ray’s soft voice broke the deafening silence in the corridor. His brown eyes were giving Frank a fatherly look. Frank found more comfort in the detective’s gaze than he ever had from his own father. He shook his head, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“No...I-I need this. I need to know.” He murmured, his voice frail but determined.

Ray waited another moment, giving Frank one more chance to change his mind before he swiped his ID over the panel to the left of the door. A buzz rang out, and he pulled it open to let Frank inside. He remained standing by the door, allowing the boy his time alone with Gerard.

Frank didn’t speak first. Gerard turned his head up after a heavy silence, hazel eyes seeming to catch fire themselves when they laid upon Frank, a weak smile on his lips.

“My dove,” he whispered. Frank felt sick.

“D-don’t call me that.” He sputtered, forcing whatever conflict still resonated inside him to keep quiet. He was here for a reason, and he wasn’t about to waver from it. “What did you do, Gerard?”

“I did nothing but what He asked of me,” he was so casual in how he spoke. This made the nausea in Frank’s stomach all the more bitter. He felt the bile in his throat. He wanted to spit it at him. 

“And what did _he_ ask of you?” Frank growled through gritted teeth. He didn’t move to sit when Gerard beckoned him closer with his cuffed wrists raised. The chair across from him remained empty, Frank keeping himself close to the door. He knew Ray would reach in to pull him out if Gerard made any sudden movements.

“It was merely an act of faith, darling. No better conviction than willing to sacrifice even those you care for most.” The way the words came from him so casually made Frank feel sicker. The questions came surging through his mind like a printer that wouldn’t stop until every page was out. He didn’t know where to begin.

“So you would have killed me too then?” Frank knew this wasn’t about him, but he had to know. Was he really valued in that place, or was he just as disposable in this man’s view, the same as the countless lives that had been lost to the inferno of hell on earth. 

“Oh no, sugar. You were always mine to keep. You knew that better than anyone I’m sure.” Frank stiffened at the coolness in Gerard’s voice, just as it had been when they first met. It was too charming, but he couldn’t fall victim to it anymore. Not now that the jury was out. His facade had crumbled. 

“I was _no one’s_ ,” Frank snapped, striding toward the table to throw his hands upon it with a loud clatter. He stared the older man down, eyes hard and face visibly furious, his blood boiling beneath his skin. The room felt hot, but in a vastly different way than any other time spent with the man. “You groomed me.”

“I loved you.” Gerard said simply.

“I _trusted you_.” Frank felt his voice strain with the threat of fiery tears, slamming a hand down again. He held back none of his anger, his pain, the confusion and everything that came with being in that place. Everything that came with being this man’s right hand, the one whom he took to bed every night. He was a child. He was young. He was afraid of the world and confused about where his purpose lay. The only good this man had done for him was to show that the world could be just as ugly of a place, even in paradise.  
“You took so much from me. I was a _kid_. How many more were there, Gerard? How many like me did you just suck into your twisted fantasy of a perfect world?” 

Gerard didn’t move while Frank threw his verbal punches. He’d always been that way, allowing anyone, no matter how angry or passionate in their emotions, to speak their side before he gave his input. He had his hands folded on the table, fingers interlocked. The thick silver cuffs attached to his wrists glinted in the lamplight hanging above them. It was odd to see him this way, a man so used to being in control having that no longer. A murderer. A master manipulator. His sins were undeniably visible, and he seemed to know that now. He just didn’t care. 

“My darling Frank,” The elder kept his gentle tone, eyes holding Frank’s in the way they always had done. He knew how to maintain control, even when he lacked so little of it now. “Don’t tell me you didn’t love me, too.” 

Frank broke a little at the words. His anger was just as easily overwhelmed by the heartbreak. The memories came flooding back in vivid pictures, like film rolls scrolling endlessly behind his eyes. The tenderness, the dedication, how attentive he’d been to his needs. How often Frank would seek him out in moments of weakness, needing a gentle touch, a kiss, or a long night alone in that godforsaken bed. The times in the chapel, or off on an isolated path under the guise of spiritual journey, of discovery. The dependency was unfathomable. Despite everything that he’d endured while living amongst the compound, he couldn’t deny that in those days he had, indeed, felt a great amount of love for the Father. It was an absolute, unspoken truth. He refused to nod or give any indication that Gerard was right, but with his eyes bearing into his face; he could see right through him. He knew.

“I did.” The boy muttered flatly, defeated. “I can’t, not anymore.” 

“I don’t think you believe that yourself, love.” Gerard blinked at him slowly, fingers steepled in front of his face. “Even now, you wanted to come see me. You missed me.”

“I didn’t-” Frank began to deny, only to be cut off.

“There’s no need to lie, sweetheart. I missed you, too.” His smooth voice sent Frank’s insides lurching all over again. No, he couldn’t go through this again. The teen shook his head, fixing Gerard with a firm glare.

“Where is Mikey?” 

A shockingly sly smile pulled at Gerard’s lips, his eyes hooded as he scanned Frank’s desperate face. He now had a hook to ensure the teenager stayed put, to hear him. He beckoned for Frank to sit once more, which he reluctantly did so after a prolonged hesitation. He needed to know.

“He’s alive,” Gerard took his time in answering, leaving Frank on the edge of his seat while he panicked to learn the fate of his friend. If he wanted to find anyone, it was this monster’s sibling. The only one with some sanity left. He was only a product of the environment; he’d never done anything to hurt him and Frank knew that. The look on Gerard’s face however, told Frank that if he wanted to know details, then he had no choice but to remain. The hardest part would be coming away from this without the parasite beneath his skin once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not too proud of this honestly. i made it work but i may come back and adjust some things. hopefully though, it suffices!


	7. the righteous flourish, and peace abound.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frank finds a familiar face, after all this time.

_Three years later._

“Frank?” Jamia’s kind voice broke the newly twenty-one year old out of his daze. He smiled sheepishly from the cozy leather armchair he’d nestled himself in across from her, just as he did in the quiet office every Wednesday morning for the last year. 

“I lost you there for a minute, huh? Take your time,” She smiled at him gently, always as she did when his mind would escort him elsewhere to avoid getting too overwhelmed by crushing emotions. 

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,” Frank mumbled, shaking his head as he lifted both inked hands to rub his eyes. One of his primary coping mechanisms in his cult-free life had left him with hardly any naked skin left. New tattoos in all sorts of colorful designs covered his arms, his legs, and all around his torso. Each one had its purpose, its own meaning, and in a way Frank viewed it as taking back control over his own body. What with how powerless and weak life in the cult has made him feel… Cult, he could say that word now. It only made sense to regain his sense of autonomy, his independence. 

Jamia had been Frank’s therapist since he and his mother had packed up and moved across the country into sunny California, shortly after the trials and sentencing finally ended. Gerard had been placed behind bars, facing up to a life sentence in prison, with possibility of parole at some point but Frank was too mortified to pay attention. The man had the audacity to give him a smile as he was led out in cuffs, the stark white jumpsuit they’d given him entirely unfitting to the monster Frank knew him to be. White portrayed innocence, purity, and the man was neither of those things. Jamia had been extremely receptive and sympathetic to Frank’s situation, as he sought out a trauma therapist about a year after the move. He had been nervous and afraid of judgment, it was written all over his face. Jamia was one of few who specialized in religious trauma, as well as deprogramming tactics that were nowhere near as daunting as others. Frank felt at ease with her right away, with her warm brown eyes and motherly feel. He spilled everything to her in what became a two hour initial session, and since then Frank grew to adopt healthy ways of coping with his past and the damage it had left upon his psyche. 

“I did some research for you, and I know now that Gerard’s due for a retrial regarding parole. On good behavior.” She clarified, meeting Frank’s blank gaze with her own one of concern, her dark brows knitting together to faintly line her forehead. “How do you feel about that?” 

Frank mindlessly twiddled his thumbs together, settling for a shrug. “I mean, if he gets out, he doesn’t know where I am, right? I shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“That's right, he wouldn’t know. If he’s improved as they claim he has, I doubt he’d come searching for you, either.” Jamia assured with another smile. Frank returned it this time, though his was much weaker. 

On the surface he wasn’t worried, in his words too. But internally, Frank felt those all too familiar, aching knots in his stomach again. The “what if”s began firing off in his head, his breathing slowing, shuddering a bit. Jamia had leaned forward to take his hands gently when she noticed this. A panic attack.

“Tell me what you see, three things, Frank.” She murmured.

Frank stifled a whimper, turning his eyes up around the office to seek out three objects. “I- th-there’s your plant, by the w-window… P-pictures of your d-dogs.” His shoulders relaxed a bit. “Y-your books, you like J-Jane Austen the best.” 

“Good, very good. What is something you can smell?” She urged him on gently, giving his hands a squeeze.

“Th-the incense burning over there. Sandalwood, right?” 

Jamia gave a small hum and nodded, pulling one hand away to tap her temple with a ruby red nail. “Good for keeping a clear head. Now, one more thing, name three of your favorite tattoos.” 

Frank huffed aloud at the question, now visibly much calmer. But completing the exercise was something Jamia encouraged, to avoid stumbling backwards again. “The scorpion, my doves, and uh...the flame here.” He tapped the area on his shirt just above his heart, where a flame was inked and the word “hope” written beneath it. 

Jamia squeezed his hand once more and leaned back in her seat to retrieve her notes again. “Very good, you were about to panic there, yeah?”

Frank bit his lip, feeling only twinges of shame now compared to the waves when he started, that would leave him in a crumbled, crying heap in the chair while she’d happily taken the time to soothe him. He’d come a long way, and couldn’t afford to dash that now. “Yeah, but...that helps, the exercise thing.”  
“Classic grounding technique, Frank. You can use it anytime you feel you need to. Things you see, hear, touch, smell, stuff with your senses. Say them aloud to yourself and keep going until you’ve calmed down.” 

Frank was able to put on a smile, watching Jamia turn in her chair to schedule him in for their same time the following week. Good timing to end their session, as it allowed him a bit to grab a late breakfast before work. When he wasn’t working the weekends bartending late, he spent the days working in his friend’s repair shop. Bob’s pride and joy was refurbishing vintage cars, and Frank was sucked in right alongside him. His latest baby was a 1962 Cadillac Fleetwood, bright crimson with white trim, almost too beautiful to touch. Frank had done a significant number of sucking up to the aging owner Dale, who was due for retirement to a condo on the Florida coast any day now. Frank knew the car wouldn’t come cheap, though he was certain he could at least knock the price down a few grand. He rehearsed a few good lines in his head while he entered the local cafe, aiming for a coffee and one of their infamous strawberry cheesecake muffins. His mouth watered at the very thought, fishing his wallet out and nearly barreling into the tall, lumbering figure on his way out.

“Whoa- Jesus, sorry man.” Frank sputtered, grabbing hold of the man’s upper arm to steady them both. Luckily, no spills, he had a stopper in his to-go cup, thank god. He looked up, and Frank felt the color simultaneously enter and drain from his face. There was the pair of familiar hazel eyes, the gazelle-length legs, the token goofy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Holy shit,” Mikey breathed in unison with Frank, the two stepping away from the door to continue their examination of each other in awe. The taller of the pair finally set his things down on a nearby table to wrap Frank up in an iron grip of a hug, and he wasted no time in returning it just as hard. He wasn’t crying, but he could fear the salty tears pricking at the corners of his eyes without a doubt. Mikey smelled like cologne and stale cigarettes, something new but it was him, all the same. 

“Holy _shit_ …” Frank whispered out again, squeezing Mikey’s bony shoulders. 

“Here, here, sit with me, please.” Mikey spoke quickly, ushering Frank to the table and moving his bag to the floor by their feet. “I’m buying your coffee, whatever you want.” 

One lavender and vanilla latte in his hands, and a heavenly warm muffin in his stomach later, Frank had come down enough from his disbelief that Mikey, Mikey fuckin’ Way was sitting before him like they’d never been apart. Though the younger Way brother had visibly changed, sporting a longer mop of hair and an undercut, his uniform button-up shirts swapped for a loose tank top with some obscure band logo on it, there still remained such a Mikey essence about him. Frank had found his best friend, and he still remained terrified that he would disappear at any moment.  
The cult seemed to have left its marks on him too, at least on the surface, with faint pink scarring circling along his right arm, with the more gnarly bits covered up by extensive tattoos. Frank felt his heart sink at the idea of him in pain, letting his eyes make their way up to Mikey’s face once he’d taken all of him in.

“So, I’m guessing you wanna know what happened,” Mikey spoke first, answering Frank’s unspoken question

Frank just nodded, gripping the ceramic mug tight in his hands. 

“Well, um, yeah, the news is true. Gerard set the place up. I don’t know exactly what prompted it, something about an informant tipping off the FBI or something. They’d been witnessing sacrifices, recorded them secretly, sent the videos out… Gee kind of snapped after that, wanted to destroy the evidence and escape in the night, start a new life elsewhere.”

Frank felt his stomach lurch at the word ‘sacrifices’, the cloudy memories of what he’d witnessed that one night. He tapped his fingers against the table while he mulled over his next question. “Where did you go?”

Mikey looked conflicted, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his hands over his face, struggling to find his words. Speaking so highly of Gerard all those years only to have his perfect image of his sibling fall to pieces no doubt had been hard on him, and it showed.

“He...wanted me to come with him, I just… I’ve never seen him so _off_ , Frank. It was mortifying. The place was going up in smoke and here he was begging me to come with him, to get in the car and go. I could hear parents desperate to find their children and families, screaming, crying. People were already dead from the suffocation alone.” He paused to take another breath, leaning forward again and folding his hands in front of him on the table. “I didn’t go. I went on a few rescue missions, hence this-” he gestured to the burns on his arm that Frank didn’t dare mention, not knowing if Mikey would have been comfortable discussing sensitive matters. 

“He’s due for retrial, parole, I dunno if you’ve kept up but my therapist told me today.” Frank mumbled, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. It was cozy regardless, and kept him calm with the lavender notes hitting his nose gently.

Mikey scoffed at the words, swirling his own cup in front of him and taking a few long gulps, afterward pursing his lips together in a hard line.  
“Doesn’t know where I am, doesn’t know where you are. Fuck him.”  
He snapped bitterly. The words came as a surprise to Frank, with Mikey always having been die hard loyal to his brother- though this time, he could understand how the events that transpired would be cause for Mikey to change his tune, and fast. 

“That’s what I said, too.” Frank gave a sheepish smile, looking up at Mikey’s face again. “It’s so good to see you, I was scared you’d, y’know…”

“Me? Gone? _Please_ , you’d have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me, Frank.” Mikey flashed a grin, reaching over the table to grip one of Frank’s hands in his own. “I missed you. I was so relieved to find out you ran.”

“Relieved? It was fucking scary,” Frank breathed, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where I was. I was so paranoid he’d be coming after me. All but puked on the road when some trucker pulled over..”

“Oh he tried,” Mikey nodded along, scoffing again under his breath. “I stopped him. Made some excuse about how you wouldn’t survive the night. You were good as gone on your own out there. But something in me knew you’d make it out, good to know I was right.” He squeezed Frank’s hand tightly in his own. “You were always stronger than the rest of us. You weren’t a sheep, Frank. I knew you had it in you to get out.”

Frank sniffed quietly, throwing a hand up to wipe his eyes that had suddenly decided to water again on their own. He waved off Mikey when he offered him a napkin as makeshift tissue, his friend letting him have his moment to cry a little, and calm down. He was always good at allowing Frank to feel everything, no matter how big or small the issue appeared on the surface. 

“I… I saw him, when they arrested him, then the trial. I just... _fuck_ , Mikey.” Frank couldn't help a whimper, shaking his head. “He was trying so hard to break me down, to take his side again. I couldn’t, I didn’t want to, I-“

“Shhh,” Mikey took both of Frank’s hands this time, thumbs tracing softly along the ink on his knuckles. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I can only imagine how hard that was for you. He was messed up, Frank. He manipulated you. None of that was your fault, okay?” 

The words of assurance were exactly what Frank needed to hear, the young man cracking a small smile at his friend, who just kept staring fondly at him over the rim of his- wait. “Y-your glasses.” Frank piped up, blinking the remainder of his tears away.

“Oh, you noticed?” The younger Way grinned, pulling his hands away to strike an overly dramatic pose in his chair. “Yeah, contacts felt like a good choice. Move on from the person I was, you know?” 

“You look...good.” Frank finally breathed out, reaching for a napkin to blow his nose quickly. He was a snotty one when it came to crying, but Mikey didn’t seem to pay any mind. Frank always liked that about him. 

Mikey huffed a laugh, waving a hand. “Oh stop it, you’re gonna make a girl blush.” He teased, giving Frank a playful wink. The younger of the two felt his face heat up a little, surely his cheeks were a faint shade of pink now. But Mikey didn’t embarrass him, only smiled more and leaned on his elbows. 

“So, like, what are you up to these days? You in school or working or? No wait, lemme guess- you started a band by now.”

Frank snorted loudly, unable to contain a laugh. “God, I wish.” He mused, shaking his head. “No, working two jobs. Living with Ma till I get enough to find my own spot. Kinda scared to leave her alone though.”

Mikey hummed over another sip of coffee, clearing his throat. “Understandable. For me I just kinda threw myself into a shit ton of debt to study law, but I mean, it’s been worth it.” He half shrugged, waving a hand. “I learn a lot, have a paid internship. So, not a total loss. It’ll pay off.” 

Frank found himself smiling at the idea of Mikey being a lawyer, fighting cases and arguing with a judge in a big courtroom surrounded by an interested jury. “Damn, I mean, you were always well-spoken and passionate. I’m glad you found your way, too.”

He looked up to find Mikey studying him thoughtfully, which in turn made his face burn again. “Um, what’s up?”

Mikey caught himself, clearing his throat and tapping his index fingers together. “Look, I know we just kinda ran into each other again and it’s been so long but, I mean, I’ve been looking for a roommate. I can foot rent bills but it would definitely be easier with two, and I have an extra room. Gets kind of lonely, just me and the dog.”

Frank brightened up immediately at the mention of a canine. It had never been a secret that he loved dogs, even having a few tattooed on him in memoriam his past companions. “You have a dog?” 

Mikey chuckled softly, pushing a hand through his mess of hair. “God, leave it to you that that’s the one thing you retain from my proposal.”

“Hey, I didn’t say no, did I?” Frank huffed defensively, crossing his arms in a feign of a pout. His eyes spoke the answer Mikey searched for, earning another goofy grin from the taller man. 

“So it’s settled then, I can borrow my buddy’s truck, help you move your stuff say, this weekend?” 

“I’ll hate myself since I work late on weekends, but if I got your help then it should be fine.” Frank replied, leaning back in his seat to stretch. “Whereabouts are you? Got a nice view?”

Mikey sighed dramatically at the question, looking fondly toward the window. “Best there is, I’d say. Fire escape has a gorgeous view of the city after dark, all the lights and stuff. Good for watching fireworks on holidays, too.” 

Frank beamed at the visual Mikey planted in his head, only beginning to imagine how peaceful it would be to sit outside with the other late into the night, sharing a cigarette or a drink and talking about their existence or anything else that would seem mundane on the surface, but in their reality just made sense.  
“It sounds perfect.” 

-

As promised that weekend, and after much convincing to his doting mother that everything would be alright, Frank found himself packing the last of his few possessions into labeled cardboard boxes and staring around at his newly-barren room. It had been far too long that he could see all of the off-white carpet and the muted evergreen of his walls that were used to a cover of posters and few tapestries. He looked up when Mikey came peering at him from the doorway, glancing around himself before returning his eyes to Frank’s. “You ready? I got the truck open.”

“Yeah, just...taking a minute, I guess. Nostalgizing, if that's even a word.” Frank sighed, leaning back on his heels. He didn’t look up again, but felt when Mikey joined his side and looped an arm around his shoulders. 

“It’s a big step, being on your own. Like, that place was one thing- but this is in your control, right? You’re calling the shots now.” 

Something in those words clicked with Frank as he glanced up at Mikey’s face again, though he was more focused on looking over the different sharpie scrawls on the boxes stacked in front of them. He reached a hand up, grabbing gently at Mikey’s jaw to turn his face and stretch onto his toes to pull their lips together. When they connected, it seemed long overdue. This was his best friend, and part of Frank expected a kind rejection- until Mikey had a hand in his hair, the other holding firmly onto his waist. It was like kissing Gerard, and it wasn’t. There was no animosity behind this display of affection, no ulterior motives. His skin felt like it was buzzing in ways he hadn’t felt before, the blood flow all too obvious in his face, and certainly other places, but Frank had more self control than that. He was content to just have this, now, further intimacy had plenty of time to make itself known between them. Based on Mikey’s touch and the slight fervency in his lips, Frank had a hunch that he wouldn’t be waiting too long. 

They only broke apart in a huff of warm breath when Linda called for them at the end of the hallway, something about 'letting the A/C out by leaving the front door open' and 'burning gas in the driveway'. Frank half smiled to himself, rubbing a spot on Mikey’s chest before stepping back and turning to grab one of the boxes. 

“C’mon, time for some new beginnings.” 

Mikey grinned at him, fetching two boxes in a humorous attempt at proving superior strength, Frank jokingly bumping into his side while they made their way out to the waiting U-Haul. “Oh come off it, Way. You know I got more muscle in my pinky than you do in your whole body.”

“Is that a challenge, Iero?” Mikey spoke over a grunt, hoisting the boxes up into the back of the truck. “Not my fault you pack bricks.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I have quite the sentimental attachment to my building materials.” Frank joked back, hopping up into the back to push the boxes forward and make room for more. Despite his insistence that he and Mikey could carry it all themselves, Linda exited the front of the house with a few boxes stacked in front of her. Frank made a face and quickly gestured for Mikey to help when he noticed one of them he’d explicitly labeled ‘fragile’.  
“Jesus, Ma I told you we got this.”

“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t, ouch- thank you, sweetie.” Linda huffed when one of the boxes almost took a tumble from her arms, Mikey luckily swooping an arm beneath it in time to avoid a catastrophe. “If I didn’t help my son move,” she finished, giving Frank a gentle, but firm look when she offered him the rest of her load. 

Frank half rolled his eyes, placing the boxes neatly to the side and dusting his hands off on his jeans. “I know you mean well. But I don’t want you hurting yourself, y’know?” 

“Nonsense, darling. I’m not a day over thirty-five, you know.” Linda was clearly teasing, her lined face holding a smile at her son but her forehead remaining creased. “Are you sure about this?” She finally asked, as if Mikey wasn’t standing by listening, though he feigned distraction with a cigarette.

Here we go again. Frank sighed, hopping down to reach out for a hug, burying his face in her honeysuckle-scented hair. The smell always came as a comfort for him, and their home held the faintest traces of it everywhere. “I’m sure about this, Ma. You like Mikey, don’t you?”

Linda gave a shaky sigh, her hands rubbing along her son’s back in what would have been soothing if it wasn’t so rough, as if she was trying to scrape the past off of Frank’s body. “I do, very much. I know he’ll look out for you, I just… please, be careful. Call every day.”

“Every _other_ day, at least.” Frank assured, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I promise. But you need to let me be an adult. I’m doing alright, I promise.”

“I know, honey. You just know how mothers are.” 

Frank gave a half roll of the eyes, though it was anything but malicious when he moved away with a smile. “I know you, and that’s enough.” He glanced toward Mikey who was looking on with a proud look in his eyes. Frank standing up for himself, even against those with well-meaning hearts was a big step for him, and the man knew it, especially after their shared past.

“Ready to go, wannabe-Bowie?” He teased, earning a cigarette butt being thrown at him. “Hey!”

Mikey flashed a grin and fished the keys from his pocket, letting Linda wrap him up in a too-long hug as well. “We’ll call you when everything’s settled in, thanks for this, Mrs. Iero.”

“How many times do I have to say call me Linda?” she huffed, patting him on the shoulder and stepping back toward the house. “Drive safe, please. Too many idiots out there.”

Frank waved her off, joining Mikey in the cab of the truck once they closed the back up and secured it. He kicked his feet up on the dashboard, giving Mikey a warm smile as they joined hands atop the glove compartment between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! got a little caught up in life and a lovely thing called writer's block.  
> call this a filler chapter i guess, but i promise we are far from over! <3


	8. An Update.

hey y'all it's been a moment since i updated the fic and wanted to let you know that i haven't abandoned it!

i did however get distracted in working on my own book. i'm in process of writing a memoir/self-help type of thing and it's taken a lot of my time away from freeform stuff like fanfiction.

not to worry though, i am working on the next chapter as we speak and i do have ideas aside for future works as well. in addition to, i am re-writing bits of every chapter so if you notice minor tweaks, those are on purpose. you can blame my perfectionist ass for that.

hope everyone is doing well in the midst of 2020 being a hellscape. take care. <3

-newt


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